The Missing Memory
by HunterChic1807
Summary: It was never a normal life for Mackenzy Stanwick. Still, she never expected her carefully constructed world to be turned upside down with the death of her father and li'l brother, sending her into a life-long quest for vengeance and living on the road. But then, things just HAD TO get even more complicated than that. Dean/OFC, may involve some very disturbing themes like torture.
1. Genesis

**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first shot at fanfiction and I hope I do good enough so none of you will hate me. I'm not particularly good at writing so I had to do an ETA. So please be gentle okay? Thanks a lot in advance :)**

**PROLOGUE: Genesis**

Mackenzy Claire Stanwick turned on her wipers just as the first few drops of rain hit the windshield of her old 1983 Dodge Viper with a loud splatter. Scowling at the thought of another possible storm coming, the eighteen-year-old Irish-American instead willed all her focus onto the road in front of her now teeming with motorists eager to get out of the sudden downpour. However, the radio seemed to have other plans for her.

In the middle of playing AC/DC's Highway to Hell, static filled the small space inside her car, threatening to destroy her eardrums. All of a sudden it stopped, and then the familiar voice of the local weatherman interrupted her cursing, "Good evening, folks! This is Arthur Johnson, here to give you the latest weather reports as of tonight. Aside from the occasional drizzle, it has been confirmed that a thunderstorm is just around the corner yet again. That's the third one we're having this month and scientists do find it odd indeed, considering that we are in the month of January, winter season, and thunderstorms should be very rare. They say that this just might be the effects of climate change…"

Highly irritated, she shut it off then. Blood was pounding on the walls of her skull and the noise only made it worse. _Headache_, she thought to herself glumly. _What a wonderful way to spend my 18th birthday._

Rounding another corner, their old Victorian house came into view. According to her research, it was built around the year 1875 by a rich Irish merchant who died aboard the RMS Titanic when it made its maiden voyage in the year 1912. Despite its age, though, it was still a beauty.

Most of the time, she liked the house she shared with her little brother and their neighborhood, even through the fact that it hardly felt like home, seeing that her father was ever barely home and it was just the two of them together. Right now wasn't part of that 'most of the time' though, as her instincts were screaming at her to tuck tail and run very far away from here as fast as she can. Something was very wrong.

If it wasn't for the fact that her baby brother was with no doubt waiting for her inside, she would've given in already. She pulled over by the side of the road and stepped out of the car, albeit hesitantly, after she killed the engine

She sighed heavily as she walked the short gravel pathway to their front door, forcing herself to think of happy thoughts. It was her friggin' birthday so she should be happy! Unfortunately, the memories she conjured though happy only managed to hurt her even more than physical pain did. They were memories of a blissful picture-perfect family—hers. She lived peacefully with her brother, her mom and dad—at least for awhile.

Finally, she reached the patio and faced the door, doing her best to even out her breathing. _My brother need not suffer with me just because I can remember what it was like before that tragic house fire that took our mom from us._

All of a sudden, a crashing noise from inside their house broke her train of thought and she landed back to reality with a painful thud.

Poising a hand to knock on the door, she was shocked to see that it wasn't locked like it should've been. Her mind raced ahead of her and she found it hard to breathe. _Could there be a burglar in the house?_ "Damn it, Calvin! I told you to always lock the door!" she hissed to no one in particular, not knowing what to do next.

She knew that she should really call 911 to ask for help. But what whoever was inside hurt her little brother? She wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happens to him when she could've done something to protect him! Screw this, she hated not being in control of things!

Just then, another crash came from inside, deciding things for her. With a clammy and slightly shaking hand, she pushed the door open all the way through determinedly, trampling on any self-preservation instinct she had left. Thankfully, the door didn't creak.

Nearing the kitchen where the crash seemed to have come from as stealthily as she could, her heart dropped to her stomach as she took in the scene before her. Shattered glass and china were scattered everywhere on the carpeted floor along with pieces of wood splinters that used to be cabinets once upon a time. And in the middle of it all was her dad whose shirt was covered in red. Lastly, her eyes landed on the granite kitchen counter and her breathe hitched in her throat painfully. A young boy no older than fifteen who looked awfully like her brother lay there, all mangled, bloody, and bruised.

Her gaze returned to the man who stood beside the boy's unconscious form, seeming too calm and rather pleased with himself. _Did he do all of these himself?_ There was no doubt in her mind that he did, so a more appropriate question would be _why_?

Her dad returned her look. "Hi! Mackenzy, right? It's so nice of you to join us. I've been dying to meet you for quite some time now," he said, amusement and mockery clearly in his voice as he tried to straighten himself out and wiped his bloody hands on an equally blood red shirt. He flashed her a conceited smile that was just so unlike him and she could've sworn his eyes were yellow.

"Dad, are you stoned?" That was the only explanation that came to the confused girl, but even as she called him dad, she just knew somehow that he wasn't really her father. He was just so different from the man she thought she knew. Malice was rolling off of him like waves and the sight that had greeted her did nothing to lessen her growing unease and sense that the man in front of her wasn't her father at all. But really, how can she deny the resemblance? It's not like someone can copy appearances and pretend to be her dad right?

For a moment, no one moved or said anything. The silence almost killed her right then and there.

"Yes, of course. You think I'm your dad since I'm wearing his meat suit," he explained. Looking at her and added, "Confused? Don't worry, I'll explain everything to you later on. Let me just finish my business here with your brother," dad—or not-dad—faced her brother once more

Kenzy took a step forward to stop him even though her gut told her to just get out of there. Suddenly, this strong and invisible force pushed her back and onto the wall where a console table used to be, her feet lifted a little above the ground.

"Just stay there for a while now, Mackenzy," not-dad told her, his back turned to the girl.

_What on Earth is going on here?_ She had no idea what; all she knew was that it is the doing of the man who was pretending to be her dad. "Let me go, you bastard!" she demanded.

"Is that how you talk to your old man? I'm hurt, Zy," he faked, using her dad's old nickname for her. How he knew about that when her real dad hadn't called her that for at least a decade she didn't know. The man who claimed to wear her dad's skin slowly but purposefully made his way towards Kenzy instead of her brother, a peculiar expression on her face. And she was glad. All she needed to do now is keep him occupied until hopefully, help arrived. She wanted to kick herself for not calling 911, but she was still held immobile.

When he was just a foot away from her, smirking at something he saw on her face—fear, most probably—she spat on him and announced in what she hoped was a defiant voice, gritting her teeth to control the anger that was pulsing through her very being, "You're not my dad!" She worked hard to keep her face devoid of any emotion then to avoid giving this strange man who had hurt her brother the satisfaction of seeing her scared and vulnerable.

Her action earned Kenzy a backhand on the face that would have sent her hurtling across the room had it not been for the force holding her steady. Somehow, that only amplified the stinging face a thousand times. "You listen to me, you insolent brat! I could kill you right now on principle alone—"

"So why don't you?" she retorted, licking the sticky blood off her lips. "I figured you can after I saw the redecoration you did to our house, but somehow, I'm still breathing."

"Well that's true," he agreed, nodding his head thoughtfully. It chilled the remaining blood in her veins just looking at him, almost as if she could hear his brain working something out. "You, I can't kill. But your brother, on the other hand, I'm not so sure."

Enraged, she started struggling at the invisible force that held her down like an animal, yelling at the top of her voice. "Get away from him! Don't you dare touch a hair on his head or I swear to God, I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

"K-Kenzy?" All the rage was drained from the eighteen-year-old when she heard her brother calling out for her.

He looked so weak and so much in pain trying to raise his battered body into a sitting position that her heart constricted tightly like a vise was clutching it for all its worth. The helplessness of the situation frustrated her, and even more than that, it scared the crap out of her, not for herself but for the wellness of her brother." I'm here, Calvin. I'm right here. It's gonna be okay, little brother. I pro-mise." Her voice broke on the last word, though, and even to her ears, they didn't sound very reassuring.

"No," Call was alert and screaming in a matter of seconds, struggling against the same force that pinned Kenzy down with all his might. "You can't be here! You have to get out of here now. Go!"

"Cal, I'm not going anywhere without you," she told him weakly. _Even if I could, _she added to herself mentally. "I can't just leave you here." She glared openly at not-dad now, "Not with this bastard."

Calvin's breathing came out as ragged gasps. It's a wonder he's even conscious. "You can't save me, sis, and you know it." As if on cue, he coughed up more blood. "M-my life is just another sacrifice I'm willing t-to give… these black-eyed bitches.. They can't get their filthy hands on you…"

Just as Kenzy opened her mouth to reprimand him of his idea, pain bloomed inside her chest and spread like wildfire. She couldn't bite back the scream fast enough. It felt like her hear was being squeezed dry.

"You sure about that, Calvin Jacob?" not-dad taunted. "'Cause the way I see it, your sister's right where we want her. Suffering and in pain." The squeeze then became a crushing weight that got heavier with each syllable the impostor spoke. Thick liquid slowly flowed from her mouth, oddly tasting like iron. _My blood_, she thought gravely as darkness threatened to surround her. The girl fought back valiantly until the darkness became mere spots in her vision.

When they became clear again, she watched her brother resist the force again with renewed determination and strength even as blood continued to drip from all his wounds and lacerations. Kenzy desperately wanted to tell him to stop trying to protect her—that was her job, for chrissakes! She was the big sister who was supposed to watch out for her baby brother, not the other way around! And here she was, being forced to stand by while the life drained out of her baby brother. But infuriatingly, her mouth remained resolutely shut, almost like her lips were glued shut.

A delighted grin crept on not-dad's face, and then he flicked his wrists, a move Kenzy nearly missed since she was so concentrated on her brother. She still saw it though, and as soon as not-dad did that, her brother went limp in an instant, his neck bent at an irregular angle.

First came the shock, and then Mackenzy Stanwick went ballistic.

She didn't give a damn that her chest felt like it was still on fire. She didn't even pause to check why her blouse was soaking wet. The only thing she cared about was that her brother was now unmistakably dead, killed right in front of her, and all the remaining strength she had left went into fighting against that force acting on her. It gave her sadistic satisfaction to see not-dad having an extremely hard time subduing her, his forehead scrunched up in attention.

"You're father is still in here, y'know." In a last-ditch effort to weaken her resolve, not-dad said, "He's blaming himself for your mother's death, but most of all, he was blaming you. He's thinking you shouldn't have been born. Maybe he should've killed you long ago. That way, his wife and only son would still be alive and well without you screwing up all their lives."

Uncomprehending, she stared at him for a few seconds, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. _Did I really bring this down on my family?_

He sneered at her when she paused and Kenzy decided that she didn't care about that right now. This bastard's dying tonight.

With only revenge in her mind, she lost total control of herself and white light flooded the room immediately. The force restraining her disappeared instantaneously, not-dad gaping and obviously alarmed. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and then black smoke started gushing out of it and pooling at his feet. It froze Kenzy in the middle of her stance observing what was happening right in front of her. After it was all out, he dropped to the floor with a muted thud.

Kenzy walked over slowly to make sure that he was out or more preferably, dead, and was surprised to see that he wasn't either. More distressingly, he was crying his eyes out. He looked up at her surveying him and in that moment, Kenzy saw her dad again, the way he was before that tragic fire. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dark red blood now pouring out from his mouth like that black smoke had. "I'm sorry I let those demons get to you. I'm sorry… I failed you and I'm sorry…"

A weak-in-the-knees sensation came over her and she sank to the ground, putting her arms out to break her fall. "Dad…" she mumbled. There was no fight left in her anymore and the darkness was now taking that to its advantage, trying to pull her in again.

Dad—she was positive that he really is her dad now—smiled softly in that same gentle way Kenzy knew from her childhood, "I love you, Zy."

Tears formed on the corner of her eyes and she whispered a very shaky 'I love you too'. Then she blacked out.

**A/N: There you go. How was it? Please take a moment and review. Your input would be very much appreciated. Thanks again :)**


	2. Attraction

**A/N: And I'm back for more in such a short period of time! I dunno if anyone's reading this since I just got it up a few minutes ago, but I really hope there is. My confidence hangs in the balance here... Anyway, thanks, if you even got this far.**

**CHAPTER ONE: Attraction**

Waking up with a start, Kenzy bolted upright in bed, sweaty and oddly out of breath, like she's been running for ten miles nonstop. She shook her head to clear it, needing to dispel the images that came from her latest and by far darkest nightmare. She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, relieved that she's woken up. There's just no way that her nightmare could be true.

Looking around, however, relief was knocked right out of her and her heart doubled its pace erratically in response. _This is most definitely not my room,_ she concluded. Everything in the room was white, save for the two metal chairs and one table in the far corner. To add to her horror, her left hand was connected to an IV bag. _A hospital then,_ she thought.

The door opened just as she took the liberty of taking the dextrose off of her. A man who appeared to be in his late thirties stepped inside, looking all grim and serious in his suit and tie. Judging by his attire, Kenzy guessed that he was a federal agent. The things she saw in her nightmare came back to her with nauseating clarity and she had to forcefully shove it to the back of her mind.

"Hey. Glad to see you're awake now. I'm Special Agent John Mahoney," he greeted, inching his way closer to Kenzy, finally settling by the foot of her bed. "I'm with the FBI."

"I figured as much," she muttered, more to herself than anything, recalling her earlier assumption. It was a habit that often got her into trouble. "So," she added more clearly. "Maybe you can tell me why I'm here?"

"You don't remember?" the federal agent asked, a speculative look on his face that told Kenzy he knew the answer to his question.

_Oh, I remember alright,_ she wanted to tell him. But those…events, they weren't real right? That was just one of her terrifying nightmares. Her baby brother is alive. He can't be… Tears rolled down her cheeks as her anxious heart totally refused to believe what her brain was telling it.

Special Agent Mahoney grunted uneasily, "I can come back later—" he offered, but Kenzy cut him off mid-sentence.

"No, we better get this over with," she told him rebelliously as she dried her face and did her best to keep her voice steady. It wasn't easy, but it was doable.

He nodded his understanding. "How about you tell me what happened?"

She snorted before she can stop herself. Of course that would be his first question. Knowing full well that she had no choice but answer, she sighed first. The minute she told him what really happened, she'd be locked up in a padded room forever. The distraught girl barely believed herself! "You won't believe me even if I tell you. No one would. And thanks, but I really don't like to spend the rest of my miserable existence in the psychiatric ward." she answered after awhile of silence of John waiting patiently.

"Try me," he said, giving me a stoic face.

Well, put simply, yellow-eyed fake-dad killed my brother. Good enough?" Listening to herself say that out loud sounded even crazier than she thought it would. _Hell, maybe I am nuts!_

"Yellow-eyed not-Dad?" he repeated, his face lighting up all of a sudden as if he liked what he heard. Like it was that he was expecting. Does that even make sense for a federal agent?

Still sizing him up, Kenzy merely nodded her head.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"At first glance, he looked exactly like my dad. But if you stared closely enough and if you knew him well enough, you'd see the differences. The way he talked, hell, even the way he walked was different," she began, remembering more and more gruesome details the harder she thought about it. The pungent smell of blood, the ringing in her ears as not-Dad squeezed her heart, her own father killing her brother… Suddenly, she wasn't in a hospital room with Special Agent Mahoney anymore. She was back in her house, watching helplessly as life was drained out of her brother.

"Is that everything?" a voice broke her out of her trance-like state. Kenzy's eyes focused little by little and she saw Special Agent Mahoney in front of her again; he had taken out a small notepad and was frantically jotting down things.

Not understanding what she was seeing and hearing, she ogled at him incredulously, "You believe me." They both knew that that wasn't a question.

Special Agent Mahoney looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, the lights in the room started flickering on and off.

"We need to get you out of here first, then we'll talk," he announced, his muscles all tensed up and ready to spring at a moment's notice.

"Wait, what?"

"Can you walk?" he answered her with another question, staring at her intently.

"Yes, I can," she replied stiffly, not liking the fact that her questions were being ignored.

Before she can ask anymore, he looked her in the eyes and ordered, "Then let's go."

"Excuse me, but where exactly are we going!?" she whisper-shouted at him, afraid that she might really be losing her marbles right now and anytime soon, she'll find that she's just hallucinating all these. Only, her head chose that exact time to start bugging her—that felt extremely real—and when Special Agent Mahoney offered a very sketchy "some place safe" crap, Kenzy actually bought it and went along with him.

They brisk walked the corridors, hoping against hope that the medical staff didn't notice a federal agent in a slick suit and tie uniform and a barefoot hospital patient still wearing her hospital gown running off somewhere, and took the fire exit down to the lobby. Special Agent Mahoney led her to the back door of the hospital so there'll be less people to deal with. He was ahead of her, his car keys clasped tightly in his left hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kenzy was only a few strides away from the agent's ride when this big burly guy wearing a security guard uniform came out of nowhere.

"Special Agent Mahoney needs some more details about my family's case, so I offered to take him through the crime scene myself," she lied smoothly. She has always prided herself for being a quick-thinker.

"Did your doctor approve your release?" the guy inquired, still not convinced. He approached her as he spoke.

"Oh, yes. She gave me a clean bill of health already. There's no need for me to stay here any longer."

"I didn't know Dr. George was a girl."

Kenzy then took an instinctive step back as all the warning bells she possessed started screaming at her. "I didn't know security guards know all the patients' doctors."

With inhuman speed, the man made a grab for her, but the federal agent was already beside her in the blink of an eye. The guy's face reflected his shock at seeing Special Agent Mahoney, recognition glinting off his eyes like a billboard. The agent pulled a silver flask out from his suit, uncapped the thing with practiced efficiency and splashed its contents at the man.

He hissed in pain like he was burnt by acid as his skin sizzled and smoked and, if she hadn't seen her own father become yellow-eyed, she really wouldn't dare believe her eyes when they told her that the security guard's eyes turned completely black.

She just stood there like she was rooted to the spot in disbelief as the man grabbed at his face, unsure on what to do to relieve the pain and Kenzy just watched in morbid fascination. That is, until Special Agent Mahoney's hand gripped her tight in the arm. "Come on!" he bellowed.

Kenzy did as she was told and got into the truck without question. Within a matter of seconds, the federal agent had gunned the engine and pulled onto the main road.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

"We've been on the road for three hours and I'm starving!" Mackenzy cried out exasperatedly, for the last time she hoped. She's been trying to get 'federal agent' John Mahoney or John Blondsera or Cliff Waltham or whatever the hell his real name is to pull over long enough to have a decent meal in one of the diners they've passed by, but it's starting to look like she had a better chance at being the first female American President than bending his will. "I need my fix of caffeine, John," she pressed on, calling him by the first name that appeared more than once in his many fake IDs. "I need to eat where I can be comfortable!" _God, this one-sided argument's draining me…_

Never taking his eyes off the road, John answered her wearily, "I told you we can't take the risk of being tracked. Besides, we're almost there."

"And where is 'there' exactly?" When he chose to ignore her this time, Kenzy mustered up her courage to try and force it from John. Careful or not, she needed to know where they were headed, at the least. And thus, the underlying threat in her voice when she spoke up again. "How about you tell me or I start screaming my head off?" she said heatedly, working hard to keep a rein on her rising temper. "I can charge you for kidnapping, you know," she added as a matter-of-factly, just to be sure.

With a defeated sigh bordering on annoyed, John relented, "Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I have a friend there looking after my sons for a little while."

"Okay," she said, tossing that information somewhere at the back of her head for further contemplation later. "And you're sure we're safe there?"

"Yes."

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Kenzy's curiosity got the better of her. "What were those things anyway? Yellow eyes, black eyes… What's next? Red eyes?"

A ghost of a smile passed on John's lips as if he was enjoying an inside joke. He chanced a glance at his passenger, somewhat astounded that she had noticed that guy's eyes back in the hospital, before he answered her again, this time more willingly, "Those were demons back there."

He risked another fleeting look at the girl beside him, gauging her reaction. She just waited patiently, visibly waiting for him to crack up and say that those were just civilians, _normal people_, on a really bad acid trip. He just kept his hands on the wheel after that look, staring straight ahead.

When the 'just kidding' that she was expecting never came, Kenzy just muttered, "Wow." She didn't even bother asking him if he was serious. It was clear on John's face that he wasn't kidding around. "Demons." She rolled the word around inside her head, not quite believing it completely yet. "Like honest-to-God devil crap?"

She didn't have to look at John to know that he affirmed that. A murky memory resurfaced then. She closed her eyes to help absorb the picture in her head. It was from when she was still a little toddler, back when things were simple and she had both her parents to protect her and show her that she was loved. She remembered her parents putting her to bed, always telling her that angels will keep watch on her when she slept so that she will have no nightmares and no monster will ever hurt her. But what the hell were her angels doing? Her mom died. Her dad died. Her baby brother died. She was all alone, and where were those friggin' angels!?

John couldn't help but tear his eyes from the road and study Kenzy again. She was trembling like a leaf beside him, her eyes closed tight. He recognized the look on her face. How many times had he faced the mirror looking the same? It always happened when he remembered things from his past life, the one where he didn't know about all these supernatural evil lurking around and didn't give a rat's ass about the crazy deaths all over the country. He was almost 100% sure that the same thing was happening to the poor girl, so he shut his mouth to prevent himself from trying to comfort her. That's not gonna help one bit.

Finding her courage again, Kenzy opened her eyes, working hard to steady her breath. She swallowed once, twice, to ease the dryness in her throat. She didn't know how long that went on, but she instead resumed her conversation with John. "Well, what do they want with me?" she questioned, a hardness creeping to her voice. She was troubled by that thought; she had demons on her ass.

"I don't know yet. That's why I brought you with me, to keep you safe," John admitted as he made a left turn.

_For safety and interrogation, _I finished for him. _But from the softness in the tone of his voice, he must have noticed my little trip to memory lane._

"Are you still hungry? There's a McDonalds up ahead," he asked suddenly.

I tried smiling at him but it probably looked more like a grimace, "Yeah, okay."

At her attempt to humor him, John heaved a sigh. Sure, she smiled a little, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Pulling over instead of thinking about it, he parked his truck in the almost vacant lot. This is really against his better judgment, but his intense need to comfort the girl in any way he can overruled him. She just reminded him so much of Mary.

John got out of the truck before Kenzy did. She tried to recompose herself again before following him.

Luckily, John had bought her one outfit from one of the stores they passed by an hour after they crossed the Stateline of Kansas. It consisted of a plain white polo shirt, black jeans and navy blue sneakers, so she was dressed up enough to be seen in public. John had also taken that opportunity to strip himself of his formal attire, favoring a gray shirt with a brown flannel on top, a pair of jeans and working boots.

They talked about random stuff over lunch of burgers and fries. John told her more about his 'job' as a hunter. Kenzy just couldn't consider the standing fact that monsters were real and John fights them with his kids. He even showed her a little of his journal and by the tons of information she read in it, it bevame harder to doubt John's claim.

Half an hour later, they were well-fed and on the road again. Kenzy bravely tried to keep track of all the twists and turns they made, but it only succeeded in giving her a headache so she just gave up. She lay her suddenly heavy head on the headrest and attempted to sleep a little.

That's why she was caught off guard when somebody shook her shoulders. She threw a punch at that person and was satisfied to hear a grunt. Blearily opening her eyes, she was stunned to see that it was actually John waking her up. She hurriedly said an apology, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry John!" She jumped off the front seat as John backed away from her. "I didn't know it was you! I thought it was demons and—"

John held a hand up, "It's okay."

Still remorseful of her sudden action, she just nodded her head. Her attention was diverted, however, by the old run-down house that stood before her. It definitely looked like it had seen better days, but once she got past the outside appearance it actually had a very homey atmosphere to it. The young boy standing at the threshold of the front door sure did look like he was at home here.

He must've been no more than fourteen years old with a mop of unruly brown hair and an intense gaze that didn't fit the whole young theory. He was a bit on the short and thin side, but the way he carried himself didn't reflect his height in any way.

If it wasn't for the sound of a car door closing behind her, Kenzy probably wouldn't have noticed that she was already staring. She quickly dropped her gaze, embarrassed.

"Sam, where's Bobby?" John called out to the boy.

"In the back, sir. He's working on a car with Dean," the boy replied immediately and without emotion. Well, there's no love lost between this two.

John nodded and said just as passively, "Go get him."

With a barely audible 'yes sir', the boy was gone to who knows where.

Without a warning, John was beside her, headed for the front steps. Startled at the sudden proximity, the wary girl shrank back from him a little as he spoke, "Let's go in."

Kenzy didn't even bother to argue on that. If she was being honest with herself, she felt very comfortable in her position as of the moment. Sure, it had its moments of pee-in-your-pants terror and the idea of being all alone in this cruel world weighted her down a great deal, but it wasn't really so bad. She was more than ready to relax after a stressful day, and she could really use some me time now after being in a confined space with John for five long hours.

However, she couldn't completely drop her guard yet so she squared her slack shoulders some and obliged herself to keep alert. Honestly, it wasn't very impressive but it did help to ease her frayed nerves a little.

"Uh, John?" she said tentatively as they entered a sort of study room. When she was positive that she had his attention, she continued, "Could I use the bathroom?"

"Knock yourself out," came the reply. John sat contentedly on a chair with his eyes closed, his taut muscles now at ease. It didn't escape Kenzy's notice that he failed to mention where the bathroom was, but she let it go and didn't ask anymore. She'll just have to figure it out herself.

Luckily, it didn't take much time and effort to find what she was looking for. The place was pretty spacious and there were a ton of weird things everywhere she laid her eyes on but underneath it all, it was still a house.

The bathroom wasn't huge, though, and it sure looked like it could use some cleaning up. Gratefully, there was a functional sink and toilet in it and the shower seemed to be working just as fine. A quick glance at the medicine cabinet showed a first-aid kit and it was fully stocked. The thing was like a friggin' pharmacy!

Exhaling noisily, the events of the past day and today were starting to catch up to her and flooding her brain. The sudden influx of memories gave her a really bad headache, even worse than the one she had at the car. The only thing that stood out among the rest was the fact that she was now alone. Her dad and baby brother were both dead. She was the only surviving member of her family.

She shuddered uncontrollably as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber. Needing to steady herself in case her rubber legs decided to give out on her, Kenzy seized the edge of the sink with both hands until her knuckles went white and numb. Slightly bloodshot eyes gawked at her, strands of dirty blonde hair framing her temples haphazardly.

Annoyed at how weak that made her look in this foreign place and with foreign people, Kenzy splashed ice cold water on her face impulsively. The cold bit into her skin uncomfortably but she quickly shrugged it off. After wiping the droplets of water off her face with the hem of the shirt John got her on the way here, she tugged at the piece of yarn she used to ponytail her hair earlier on and let the wavy locks fall onto her shoulders.

Now completely satisfied, she exited the bathroom and began to trace her way back to the study.

Meanwhile, Dean and Bobby were still trying to fix the new addition to the pile of cars that waited to be worked on. It was an old 1983 Camaro and very stubborn.

"You done yet, boy?" Bobby Singer called out to the teenager under the car.

"I need a few more minutes with her, Bobby. She's playing hard to get," he automatically answered with an annoyed huff. It's never taken this long to fix something up for Dean, especially if it had a set of four wheels and an engine and it irritated him.

"Dean! Bobby!" a voice Dean would know anywhere was suddenly heard approaching them, followed by heavy footsteps indicating that its owner was running.

The middle Winchester rolled out from under the car and stood up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his only free arm. Unfortunately, that seemed to have smeared more grease onto his face, but he didn't mind it. He was used to that by now, almost welcomed it. Dean turned his attention to his younger brother instead. "Hey, Sammy. You look like you've seen a ghost," he joked. "What happened?"

"He's back and he's with a girl. He wants to talk to Bobby immediately," the youngest among the three revealed, choosing to ignore his brother's jibe. "I think it has something to do with the girl."

"Okay," Bobby replied simply. "Let's head on inside, Dean. We'll finish tomorrow."

Dean grumbled at that, knowing full well that by tomorrow, he'd be far gone from Bobby's salvage yard. And he was almost finished with the car too! Dad just couldn't wait a few more minutes…

The trio walked the short path towards the front of the house in complete silence. Dean guessed that they were all pretty curious about the girl dad brought home. The fact that he brought her with him anywhere was mystifying in itself.

Once inside, Dean Winchester was in for the shock of his short life. She was just goddamn perfect. Her dirty blonde hair fell into little waves over her shoulders in beautiful disarray. Tiny droplets of water were caught on some of the strands and when the last of the sunlight hit them in a certain angle, it made her hair look like it was made of gold. And her face is nothing short of angelic. Her cheeks were flushed red maybe because of the unusual heat in the room. She had rare bluish gray eyes, perfect somewhat pointy nose, perfect-sculpted pink lips… Dean's gaze went down a little further and what hesaw only made him reiterate. She's perfect.

"This is Bobby Singer, an old family friend. He does what I do too. This little squirt here is my youngest, Sam," John started the introductions. Bobby shook Kenzy's hand and Sam gave her very shy smile in acknowledgment and the girl did the same.

"And right here is Dean, my eldest," the Winchester patriarch concluded, clapping a hand on Dean's back who was right next to him. The girl approached him with her right hand outstretched. All Dean could really do was stare.

"What, is this your first time to see a girl?" Kenzy asked, giving off a short tinkling laugh. It surprised her, this immediate reaction to John's oldest. She can't recall herself laughing this carefree for a very long period of time. Or maybe she was just blocking herself from remembering anything.

"N-no…" Dean stuttered—that's a first for him. "It's just, uh, my first time to see such a beautiful girl," he finished lamely, flashing her his most disarming smile instead.

"Oh look at that, we haven't know each other for five minutes and he's already hitting on me. And he doesn't even know my name!" Kenzy mocked, liking the way Dean turned red a little at that. She found that she liked teasing him a lot. Turning her attention back to Sam, she questioned, "Is he usually like this?"

"Yep, that's Dean," Sammy replied truthfully with a mischievous grin on his face. Dean instantly nudged him with his elbow to shut him up.

The action was met by the girl's tinkling laugh again, "Cute."

Faking a cough to pretend he didn't witness the encounter, John soldiered on with the introductions, "And guys, this is Mackenzy Claire Stanwick."

"Just Kenzy would be fine," she grinned, looking completely at ease already. Dean briefly wondered if she knew the truth about what they do for a living but was interrupted by Bobby before he could ask.

"Okay, Just Kenzy. What's the deal with you?" he interrogated, folding his arms across his chest, still cautious of the girl.

The change in Kenzy's expression was astounding. One second she was all smiles and totally relaxed and the next she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was clear in her stance that she was in deep trouble.

Kenzy looked to John, momentarily hesitating, obviously at lost as to what she should say. He gave her the slightest of nods as a gesture of encouragement. "Demons are after my ass and I have no friggin' clue why!" she blurted out, her cheerful façade from earlier on cracking under the stress and pressure. "Two days ago I didn't even believe they existed, for chrissakes."

"Demons? Which kind?" Bobby's eyes flickered to my the other hunter as if him bringing Kenzy back to his house made perfect sense just by the mention of the word.

"Kinds? There are kinds!?" Kenzy's voice came out unnaturally high and squeaky and she looked panicked for a second. A minute later, she recomposed herself, though her breathing was still shallow. "He possessed my dad." She took another deep breath before continuing. "He looked exactly like him, except for the sick yellowish eyes. He didn't stick around after the white light."

"Yellow eyes, huh?" Bobby repeated with a thoughtful expression. "Wait, what white light?" Bobby turned to Dad, expecting answers from him but that piece of information seemed new to him as well.

The grown-ups were starting to talk about another possible job and it soon bored Sam. The look on his face indicated that all he wanted to do was go back to his books. His older brother whispered to him, "Why don't you grab us something to drink, Sammy? Then you can excuse yourself and do what you want."

He graced Dean with a grateful smile before showing him his infamous bitchy face. "It's Sam."

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk." And with that, he trotted away to the kitchen.

After he was gone, Dean concentrated on the conversation. Bobby and John were sharing conspiratorial glances as they listened to Kenzy narrate exactly what happened.

"He was obviously after me. That d-demon threatened a lot about killing me but he wouldn't do it. Or couldn't maybe. So he-he opted to kill my brother in my stead," she was saying as moisture clearly accumulated in her eyes. Her lips trembled a little, but she pressed on. "All I could remember after that was pure white-hot rage and then white light flooded the room. Literally. Disgusting black smoke came out of my father's mouth and he was himself again. He said he was sorry that he let them get to me and that he l-loved me." A sob finally managed to escape from her lips and all three men shifted from foot to foot, unclear on how to comfort the girl.

Dean glanced at his dad to receive instructions on what to do next, the same as he'd usually do when unsure on how to proceed on a hunt. John gave him a pointed look that said _you're the expert with girls, you do __something_.

Without bothering to correct his dad that he was an expert on flirting girls, not comforting them, Dean placed an awkward arm on Kenzy who had her hands on her face as she cried. "It's okay, Kenzy. Everything's gonna be fine. We'll keep you safe," Dean murmured at her, pulling her closer to his body and rubbing soothing circles on her back like the way he used to do to Sam when he was younger.

When her sobs died down to almost nothing but whimpers, Dean suggested she rest in one of Bobby's many guest rooms. This spurred the others into action and Bobby said something about a possible hunt two towns over, leaving Dean to lead the distraught girl to one of the upstairs room.

She crashed onto the bed the minute she got in and when she didn't say anything, Dean went down to the kitchen to find Sam.

**A/N: That went pretty well, didn't it? Oh well, you know the drill guys. Please take a moment and review okay? Thanks a lot!**


	3. Sweet, Sweet Revenge

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with a vengeance! Haha, just kidding. Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to TinkerTink who gave me my very first review. Also, I'm very sorry if the title kinda sucks. I'm very bad with that kind of thing... If you have suggestions on a better title for this chapter, feel free to PM me. So, I know you know the drill. R&R please! Thanks *lopsided grin* Stay awesome, everyone!**

CHAPTER TWO: The Runaway

Sunlight filtered through the window somewhere and Kenzy tugged at the blanket on her waist to block it out, meaning to go right back to sleep. Her body knew it was Tuesday today, her only day off from her part time work at the local bar, even before her sleep-fogged brain could completely process that tiny little fact. She was just sinking into blissful unconsciousness again when her brain, in evident unrest unlike her body, decided to give her a push off the bed: Kenzy's room didn't have any windows.

Streaking up and off the bed in a world record of shy half a second, she frantically examined the room she was in. _Was I kidnapped?_

And then just as sudden as my jump from the bed, memories from the other night and yesterday came crashing down on me. Hard. And forefront among all of them was the face of my brother, his eyes blank and lifeless. The constant light of his absurdly optimistic attitude seemed to have vanished entirely. He was unmoving. Dead.

Kenzy emitted a low sob, much to her disgust. She was getting too soft lately, and she hated herself for it. _How many times would I find myself not knowing where I am only to be assaulted by those images inside my head and caught unaware, goddamn it!?_ That just wasn't her. She was supposed to be emotionally constipated, a smartass bitch who didn't want the world to know how she really felt, according to the mandatory appointment with the university shrink just a few weeks ago. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

Revolted with herself, only now did she truly notice the room Mr. Singer had lent her. It was basically bare and quite smaller than her room back home but she didn't really care. Home. Where is home exactly?

Yesterday, when Dean had showed her here, she had thrown herself on the bed and just shut her eyes, willing herself to sleep despite the turmoil in her noggin. It hadn't been easy, what with all the things she had to think through, but somehow, before she had drifted off into a deep and fitful sleep, Kenzy had made a very important and life-changing decision. With that in mind, she straightened the wrinkles in her only clothes as much as she can before making her way downstairs.

She was met with the aroma of freshly made coffee and the smell of bacon and eggs frying as she came down the narrow staircase. Hearing her stomach grumble in protest, she headed towards the smell subconsciously. She realized that she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's lunch, and even then, she only took a few small bites of her burger and nibbled on a French fry.

The normality of the sight that greeted her almost threw her off for a minute. Mr. Singer was on the stove, where the smell of bacon and eggs were coming from. Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be preparing the coffee for him and Bobby and the milk for Sam while his little brother set the table. John was nowhere to be seen.

Dean looked up from pouring coffee on one mug and greeted Kenzy a good morning with a big _definitely_ flirtatious smile. The university student had seen that look so many times on some of the jocks' faces in school. He held eye contact, and she simply couldn't look away. There was a hypnotic effect in his deep hazel eyes, and Kenzy suddenly found it hard to breathe. Now, that's something she hasn't experienced before…

Unfortunately, the hot coffee was already overflowing from the white mug Dean held. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled out as the hot liquid burned his hands and he swiftly set the mug on the table. I couldn't help but grin as both Sam and Mr. Singer seemed to find that extremely funny.

Dean glared at them, but Mr. Singer was oblivious to that or he just chose to ignore it. "You want some breakfast?" he asked the still slightly half-asleep girl, placing the plate of bacon on the small table.

"Sure, Mr. Singer," Kenzy answered politely.

"Call me Bobby, Kenzy," he said pointedly, referring to yesterday's introductions when she had insisted everyone to call her by her nickname.

"Okay," she replied with a smile.

Kenzy offered her help with the cooking but Bobby just shook her off and told her to get comfortable. But the inaction was starting to get to her, so she decided she'd just get herself a cup of caffeine. That meant being in close proximity with Dean again, and she don't know why but just the thought of being close to him warmed her insides. That feeling was foreign to her as well.

Ten minutes later, Bobby was already finished cooking and the lot of them were all seated in the small table. Nobody said any grace, not that it bothered the new girl, and they all begun to consume the food prepared with varying intensity. Dean dug right in, Sam took his time, Kenzy timidly sampled hers and Bobby watched them take a bite each before starting himself.

For a little while, they ate in companionable silence. Kenzy noticed Dean kept glancing at her, and Sam smirked at him all the time he caught him doing so. Her face went hot at that. It's not her first time to get attention from guys, really. There were a plenty of the male population back in Lawrence that attempted to catch her interest by hanging around the library though they clearly didn't want to. The girls, on the contrary, gave her a hard time about it. And so, she learned to just ignore them and focus on her studies.

Dean Winchester, however, was anything but easy to ignore. There was just an aura of attraction that surrounded him like second skin that was hard to overlook. And his hazel eyes did nothing to help that. It was the first thing Kenzy had noticed about him, and he can't seem to look away once she got trapped in them. He was a bit on the lean type, but muscles were already starting to show, which she found strangely sexy… _Sheesh. Where on Earth did that assessment come from?_

Her thoughts, thankfully, were interrupted by a ringing on one of the many phones that hung by the wall in Bobby's kitchen. I noticed them yesterday when I first came in the house and went to look for the bathroom. He stood up to get it, and the boys stopped eating to watch him. Kenzy did the same.

"Hello, Agent Willis of the FBI."

Kenzy's eyes widened at what she heard. They—hunters, she meant, as John and Bobby referred to themselves—seem to be impersonating government officers a lot. She briefly wondered if she'd have to do that once she got started with her plan. Speaking of which…

Bobby spoke on the phone for a while more before reclaiming his seat on the table. Dean asked who that was and Bobby answered immediately, "Your dad's over at Garretson already, just two towns over. He's investigating that haunting I told you about yesterday and the local sheriff's giving him a hard time."

_I wonder why I'm not surprised at the mention of a haunting which could only mean ghosts?_ Kenzy asked herself, slightly amused. _I think I'm getting the hang of this much faster than I thought I would._ Remembering her intention, she cleared her throat to get their attention. "Uhm, guys?"

They all stopped what they were doing the minute she started speaking. Bobby and Sam both had curious looks on their faces, but Dean stared at her more intently and her face flared hot again. _Why the hell would that be?_ She cleared her throat again, her mouth suddenly as dry as cotton. That happened a lot when she was nervous. "Er, I was just wondering if, you know, maybe if I'd want to do what you guys do, maybe you'd help me get started?" she managed to squeak out.

Bobby and Sam got what she meant immediately, but it took a moment for Dean to fully comprehend what she wanted. And when he did, you'd think all hell broke loose, looking at the stunned expression on his face.

Silence fell over the entire house. Even the ticking of the clock somewhere in the study seemed to have stopped. It got Kenzy thinking that maybe she should've asked John instead, or maybe got Bobby to herself and asked him in private. A sickening feeling settled in her gut, and she had the thought that maybe she made the wrong choice of even mentioning this to them.

The oldest hunter got over the shock of her request faster than the two Winchester boys. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.

The girl took a deep breath before answering him, afraid that they'd hear her voice tremble and think that she wasn't sure about this, because as far as she was concerned, she was fully aware of what she's getting herself into. "I am," she insisted. "I've thought about this a lot yesterday and most of last night, and I knew that I just have to. I couldn't close my eyes for a minute without remembering that horrible night. I hear my dad's voice in my head all the time! I have to do this, Bobby. I have to."

Kenzy's little speech brought about another period of silence and the awkwardness was slowly choking her. "Okay," Bobby said, glancing at the two boys as he did so. Sam offered her a little smile. Dean's face was harder to read, but since it didn't look angry or anything similar to that, she breathed a sigh of relief. _Maybe I made the right choice after all._

There wasn't much to do for Kenzy during the rest of the day. Sam was in the room he shared with his brother, neck deep in books. Bobby and Dean were working on a car in the garage and left her inside the house with her own devices—which wasn't much. She kept in mind to ask them later on if she could drive back to Lawrence for some of her stuff. It struck her then that she'd have to arrange for her father and brother's burial too. The thought just made her sick. Either way, she'd still have to go back. It just didn't feel right to let other people deal with that. Besides, she needed to settle their property as well as some of the other things she won't need once she begins her new life.

Settling on an ancient-looking book to read, Kenzy sat inside the study, poring over the tons and tons of stuff piled everywhere. After almost four hours—she's been counting—Bobby came inside to grab him and Dean some lunch. He hastily made two sandwiches and grabbed two bottles of drinks that looked suspiciously like beer before going out again. She hadn't seen Dean since breakfast and it somehow disappointed her.

Kenzy got up from where she's been sitting in for hours and went to the kitchen to make another two of the sandwiches Bobby did. She also made a glass of orange juice, setting the sandwiches and the glass on a tray before making her way upstairs.

Knocking twice on the door to announce her entrance, she let herself into the room. Sam greeted her with a huge smile and a look of surprise at the food she was holding. "You didn't have to bother, Kenzy," he said as a manner of greeting.

"Someone had to feed you, squirt. The two men were too engrossed with whatever they were doing outside and you were too engrossed with your books that I had to step in," she explained lightly, using the endearment she used to call her own brother. The thought brought a stinging sensation in her eyes that she immediately squashed. Come to think of it, Sam should only be about a few years older than Calvin.

"Thanks," he grinned.

"What were you reading about anyway?" Kenzy asked, needing to open up a conversation. A few more hours alone could more than possibly make her forget how to speak with humans.

"Just stuff about ghouls," he answered promptly. "Dad left me a bunch of things to go through."

Aversion to the task given to him was clearly in his voice. Obviously, he didn't like what he was doing, so the future hunter changed topics straight away. "Oh I see. Well, I was kinda wondering if you'd like to come with me to the grocery? I don't know this area very well. Of course, we'd have to ask Bobby for permission first and ask for money…" Money. Right. Another thing she'd have to get from home.

"Yeah!" Sam jumped up from the bed, tossing the books beside him. "I'd like that very much."

His sudden outburst shocked the eighteen-year-old for a while, but it soon made her smile. The fact that he could get worked up from a simple grocery shopping was enough to endear her to the little guy. He was just so much like Cal it made it hard to think that they weren't the same.

"Why don't you get dressed while I ask Bobby?" Kenzy suggested.

"Okay," he agreed right away, eager to please.

"I'll meet you downstairs."

Kenzy checked the time when she got to the study. It was just a quarter to one, so they shouldn't be away for too long that she would barely have time to prepare. Just in time, she heard the door open. Bobby went inside while Dean remained in the garage. She had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her since after breakfast. "Hey, Bobby, do you mind if I made dinner tonight?" Kenzy began, meeting him halfway.

"Nah, you shouldn't. You're a guest." She insisted on doing it this time and Bobby relented, saying that he had research to do for another hunter anyway. He gave her money to buy the stuff she'd need that weren't in the kitchen and the keys to one of the trucks he had outside.

"Uhm, could I take Sam with me? I don't know where certain stores are and he looks like he needs some time out. He sounds really rather excited when I asked him," Kenzy added before she forgot.

Bobby thought about it a little before he nodded, his trucker's cap bobbing along with his head, "Okay, sure. I'll tell Dean where you guys are," he said. "And don't forget Sam's cell," he reminded as she went back to the kitchen to recheck the stuff she'll need to buy.

He went to the kitchen with her, setting the dishes they used and placing the bottles by the sink. She was right. They were drinking beer. For lunch. For Bobby, it was sort of okay since he was older and very much capable of handling himself, but Dean was just a teenager like her. He couldn't possibly be more than twenty or something! Determining that it wasn't really her place to question that, she compelled herself to just think about other stuff, like her little trip with Sam.

She found herself inspecting her gaunt face in the mirror of the bathroom minutes later. Pinching her cheeks a little to get at least some color in them, she exited hastily to meet Sam by the foot of the stairs. Turns out she didn't have to wait because Sam was already bounding down the stairs, trying to take to steps at a time.

"Ready to go, squirt?"

Nodding his head, vigorously, Kenzy gestured for the two of them to go outside together. The 1968 Ford F-350 parked just beside a sleek black 1967 Chevrolet Impala seemed the most likely to be Bobby's so she tried it out. Seeing that it was the right truck and it seemed to be in tip top condition, she revved the engine just as Sam climbed on riding shotgun. They were out of the salvage yard in a matter of seconds.

The two rode in silence for a little while, but it was better than having a strained conversation. Finally finding an ice breaker, Kenzy asked, "Hey, who owns that Impala beside Bobby's truck?"

"Oh, that used to be dad's, but he gave it to Dean when he got his license and bought a truck for himself," Sam adequately explained. "Dean treats it like a living person."

"He likes cars that much, huh?"

"Yeah."

Silence again.

"Do you like cars?"

"Not really."

"So books are more your style."

"Yeah, I guess."

_Okay, this is awkward_. "So. What do you plan for college then geek-boy?" Sam's ears turned pink at that. "C'mon, it's not something to be ashamed of," Kenzy coaxed.

"Uhm, maybe law at Stanford?" He sounded unsure of himself.

"I'm in college myself," Kenzy told him. "Taking up my pre-med before…all this."

"I'm sorry about your family," he offered, looking up at me with soulful eyes. His sincerity warmed her heart that's been consistently turning frosty as the plan she had inside her head took form and she smiled the most authentic she could manage.

"Uhm, take the next right," Sam murmured shyly when we almost reached an intersection.

Kenzy did as she was instructed and it wasn't long before she saw the big sign that clearly shouted grocery. Grinning at Sam to encourage him that he could freely talk to her, she expertly wedged their truck in between a pick-up and a very old and beat-up SUV.

Ten minutes later and she was already cruising the aisles as she picked out the things she'll need for dinner while Sam chattered away about school and a little about hunting and his family. It became clear on her then why they had reacted the way they did during her announcement.

It was transparent that Sam didn't want this kind of life. _He was just thrust into a life he didn't want while here I am given the choice between a normal life and a life on the road, and the only thing he sees is me apparently making the wrong choice. But that's just it! It didn't feel wrong. It felt like I was meant for this, and no matter what I do, I'd get pulled in no matter what, _she contemplated.

Kenzy noticed that Sam had stopped talking while she slipped into idle mode. He was looking at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, short stuff. Just a lot on my mind."

"Oh, okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah, sure," she lied smoothly, pulling something out of thin air. "I really can't decide if I should make an apple pie or just bake a cake."

With the look Sam gave her, she was pretty sure he saw right through her bluff. But if he really did, he didn't show it. Instead, he dimpled at me and damn if that didn't make him unbelievably cute. He wasn't exactly at the level of hotness as his older brother—or maybe the age gap had something to do with it—but they both had distinct differences that made them equally appealing.

"Pie," he said. "Definitely pie. Dean will love you forever if you made him pie."

Decision made, Kenzy started pushing the cart and Sam resumed regaling her with stories about his older brother now. If Dean were here, that would've earned Sam a smack to the back of his head. But seeing that he wasn't, Sam just went on as they both laughed at the middle Winchester's misadventures.

Soon, they finished shopping and paying at the cashier. As a bonus, just as she had mentally calculated, there was enough money left for an ice cream for Sam.

The little boy's eyes widened in surprise as they entered the small ice cream parlor Kenzy had spotted when they first entered the grocery. It made her happy enough to see him beaming from ear to ear but it made her wistful too, the what-could-have-been's running through her head.

"What flavor, ma'am?" the pleasant guy behind the counter inquired jovially.

Kenzy didn't even notice they've reached it. She turned to Sam, :What flavor do you like, Sammy?"

Sam often complained when his older brother called him by that nickname and he flat-out refused to respond to anyone else who called him that. But the teenager in front of him was a very different case.

Kenzy had said his nickname like the way he'd imagined a mother's caress to feel, not that he'd remember if he had ever experienced something like that, but that single word was so full of care and affection that it made him wish briefly that he could at least remember his own mom.

"Ch-chocolate mint," he stammered. The guy didn't seem to have taken note of his somewhat shaky voice and scooped his ice cream onto a cone.

Kenzy, however, immediately saw the longing and the confusion in his eyes. "Sam? Are you okay?"

Her family had just died a few days ago and she was _here_, asking him if _he was fine_. Sam couldn't help but marvel at the chance to meet someone as caring and passionate as Kenzy. He was saved from answering though, by the ringing of his cell inside the pocket of his jacket.

"Where are you!?" his older brother's voice thundered through the device.

"In an ice cream parlor near Hy Vee," he supplied automatically, knowing his brother knew where exactly that was, never taking his eyes off Kenzy's face that unmistakably reflected her genuine concern.

"I'm coming to get you, you hear?" Dean said, and Sam almost rolled his eyes at his overprotective brother.

But it did bring to mind the fact that Kenzy had demons looking for her and wanted to kick himself straight away that he's been so careless as to forget. "I hear you. We'll wait for you in the parking lot."

"Got it," Dean responded. "Stay alert and keep an eye out for each other."

"Yeah."

"What is it?" Kenzy asked as soon as Sam pocketed his phone again.

"Dean's coming to pick us up," Sam announced. "Uncle Bobby will get the truck himself sometime later on."

Confusion colored Kenzy's face. _Why the sudden panic?_

Sam seemed to have read her mind. "There are_ things _looking for you, right?" he reminded her gently. "We shouldn't go out in public without either dad, Uncle Bobby or Dean with us. I'm just a hunter-in-training," he explained, taking a shot at humor in his last sentence.

Kenzy visibly blanched at the thought of facing those sick yellowish eyes again. She knew that she'll have to, sooner or later, but it was just too soon right now. She can still imagine that cloud of black smoke inhibiting her dad's own freewill. Recalling that she was still with Sam—she just couldn't break down in front of the kid—she flexed her face muscles to work up a smile. "Dean will meet us at the parking lot?"

"Yeah, we should head there soon."

"Later," she said. "Finish your ice cream first, it's already melting."

Sam licked a drop of melted chocolate mint off the cone. Just moments ago, he had looked forward to enjoying his ice cream and just spending some time with the only female figure in his life so far. It was where he didn't have to pretend to be tough and strong just to please his dad, but just be him and take pleasure in being pampered a little. But now, with the heavy feeling of imminent danger settling in his gut, he finished the sweet treat without even tasting it. The sooner they met up with his older brother, the better he'll feel. The ice cream will just have to wait.

The stuff they bought weren't really heavy, but Kenzy insisted on carrying the most of it back to the truck where they hoped to meet up with Dean. She used her I'm-the-big-sister voice on Sam and it worked wonders. Sam could almost see his big brother in the girl walking alongside him.

They had already dropped the brown paper bags in between them as they sat inside the blue truck, waiting for Dean to show up. Sam was now eating the cone of his ice cream as fast as he could to free his hands so he could be ready at a moment's notice. Kenzy occupied herself with rifling through the things they bought to make sure they had everything she'll need for dinner. It's the least form of thanks she can offer the men who had so generously taken her in.

"Kenzy!" a familiar voice startled her from her concentration and she almost fell off the open door of the truck. Looking behind her, she saw that it was Dean and the playful glint in his eyes from earlier was stronger than ever.

"Hi," she greeted, averting her eyes from his to avoid blushing as red as a tomato again.

Dean firm and callused hands reached out onto hers, slightly dragging her out of the truck, "Let's go, I need to show you something!" he told me, his smile growing wider. "Sam, you can take care of the groceries, right?"

The youngest Winchester studied his older brother suspiciously, sensing that something was amiss. Ten minutes ago, he had sounded so livid that they left the safe corners of Uncle Bobby's house, but now he just looked rabidly excited about something. Shrugging it off for overreacting—their father's teaching was starting to rub in, he deduced—he nodded his assent. The second he did that, his brother tugged Kenzy towards him and away from the truck while Sam struggled with not one but three large brown paper bags all on his own. Out of the corner of his eye, something white caught his attention.

Dean Winchester was wearing white rubber shoes.

**A/N: Things have been pretty unsatisfying in the last two chapters, I know… I'm pretty disappointed with myself as well. But I promise to work harder with each chapter and, hopefully, bring out the best from my ideas for this story. Thanks for sticking around!**


	4. Things that Go Bump in the Night

**A/N: Hey guys! School has started last Monday for me, so I apologize for the delay in updating. That means less time writing and more time in between the updates. But I promise you I'll do my best to get as many chapters as I can posted before school gets really busy. Anyway, you know the drill, please R&R! And stay awesome, you hear?**

**Disclaimer: I was told I have to do this, so here I am. It's pretty obvious I don't own Supernatural, because if I did, then I would have died and gone to Heaven—or Hell, I dunno if I qualify for Heaven. But Stanwick is mine, though, and so are the instances depicted here.**

**CHAPTER THREE: Things that Go Bump in the Night**

There are absolutely two times in her entire existence that Mackenzy Claire Stanwick, daughter of Mark Anthony Stanwick and Clarissa Marie Ashford-Stanwick and older sister of Calvin Jacob Stanwick, had been scared to death. First was when the fire in their house had claimed the life of her mother. Second, of course, would be the tragedy that had befallen her remaining loved ones just a few days ago. She would be a hypocrite if she said that she hasn't felt nervous or afraid of some other things in her life, but they were never as mind-grippingly terrifying as the two mentioned above.

And then there was now.

Gagged and tied with thick ropes to a metal chair welded to the floor, she watched carefully as the figure of Dean Winchester slowly entered the room pushing a tray covered with a white cloth. He leered at his prisoner as he saw apprehension widen her eyes. He couldn't help but notice the unusual color of her eyes, though. They were a very cool shade of bluish gray. He almost smacked his lips in delight at all the things he wanted to do to her…

This wasn't exactly what he had planned for in his quest of revenge against the man who had destroyed his father a few years back. He couldn't exactly recall how many years it has been; time itself blurs for a man with a purpose. But this would be more than enough. This girl he had taken is very important for the Winchester boys, if Dean's memories were any indication. For John, because she was the best clue he had as of the moment in his tireless crusade to find the creature that had killed his precious wife. For little Sammy, because he had been looking for a mother/sister figure in his life surrounded by men. And for Dean-o here, whose skin he chose to wear, because she was drop-dead gorgeous and he had raging hormones to satisfy. They were gravitating towards this small insignificant female, and that was enough for him.

"Comfortable, are we?" he remarked, observing how stiff and straight-backed the girl was. What is her name again? Ah, yes, Mackenzy or 'Just Kenzy'. "Kenzy, Kenzy, Kenzy," he muttered, pronouncing the word with his English tongue. She visibly cringed when he did. "You prefer being called Kenzy, no?" he asked, puzzled. Dean-o had a distinct memory of her asking everyone to call her by that nickname.

When she didn't answer with a nod or a shake of her head, he dropped the subject. It didn't matter at all once he got started with his plans for her this afternoon.

Dean removed Kenzy's gag in a swift motion. "What on Earth are you doing?" she asked him. The young man just smirked at her, but the good nature in it was gone only to be replaced by manic glee. "Dean, you're scaring me."

He didn't react at all. He just observed her attentively, loving the way her eyes dilated even more as he revealed what was under the white cloth he brought in. Almost every torture instrument man has ever imagined was right here, some he procured through some trades and some he built himself. And he was going to be able to try them out right now, on this beautiful young girl. Oh, how he would love to hear her scream and beg him to stop…

"D-Dean? What's that for?" Kenzy's voice quivered, much to her dismay. This was Dean, for chrissakes. There should be nothing to be scared of. Dean said they would protect her, so that must mean they won't _hurt_ her. And the equipments on the metal tray were meant for just that, inflicting the most possible pain while keeping the captive for as long as possible, and then some.

Her captor, which unfortunately was Dean Winchester, exited the room and entered again, now rolling in a deep basin of water. He did that a couple of times, bringing in different things each time. He placed all that near what she recognized as a shoulder-mount camcorder.

All of a sudden, he laughed out loud, a short raspy bark that didn't sound like the Dean she met yesterday. She hadn't really heard him laugh yet, but this is definitely not what she had expected.

"Oh my God, this is more fun than what I expected!" he exclaimed, laughing even harder than before. Happy tears were springing to his eyes and he doubled over, hugging his belly until he could hardly breathe. The nonplussed look on his prisoner's face was just priceless, and he can't gegin to imagine the look on the Winchesters' faces when they see this same thing soon. "Mackenzy, my name is Lance, short for Lancelot," he divulged in a businesslike and unemotional tone. "I don't care what you call me really, but I figured it would only be appropriate to let you pin a name on the person who would hurt you so much you will wish you'd just die."

In that instance, it was Lawrence, Kansas all over again. Kenzy was faced with a person she thought she knew, only for that person to tell her she was wrong. "So y-you're possessing Dean?"

"Dear God, no," Lance contradicted heatedly. "Let me show you just how different from that hunter I am."

That's when things got sickening. Kenzy just sat there with her mouth wide open in fascinated horror as Lance clawed at his skin with Dean's familiar clipped fingernails. What she didn't expect was for the skin to actually tear away without much effort from the guy. As he was doing that, his teeth—or Dean's teeth, whatever—started to fall off on their own accord and so did his hair.

It all happened in the space of a few short minutes, but after he had peeled the skin off and a new set of teeth and hair grew back, the man standing in front of her was a different one. He was still wearing the same clothes, but his own body was unrecognizable. The real Lance had flaming red hair that was maintained in a buzz cut. He had shockingly blue eyes and a somewhat pinched nose. In short, he was nothing like Dean Winchester. _But what the hell is he then?_

As if he could read her mind, he confessed without prompting, "I'm a shapeshifter, if you wanna know. I'm one of the 'things' that are killed by those filthy _hunters_." He said the final word with so much disgust. "We are often hunted down like we were some sort of animal. Never mind that me and me dad didn't really hurt anyone on purpose. Anything not human should be put down, John Winchester had said."

At the mention of John, Kenzy lifted her eyes to look more closely at her captor. She had attempted to stare down the floor until he got to the point of all the equipment he brought to the room, but his litany had made her look up.

"So this is about revenge then," she deduced.

"Yes, of course. I shall avenge the death of my father."

"In that case, I'm not your guy. John wouldn't give me a second thought and he most certainly will not rescue me, if that's what you're banking on by kidnapping me."

"Oh but he will, my dear," he insisted innocently like a child. "Don't you see how much these men are gravitating towards you? And you've only just met them yesterday!" He sounded more and more deranged every time he opened his mouth despite the fact that he was kinda good-looking and well-groomed.

_Who's gravitating to who?_ Kenzy didn't believe him for a second. His observation was accurate, she's only met the Winchesters and Bobby yesterday. But his interpretation of things was far off the mark. They couldn't possibly care that much about her.

"Well, I think the foreplay should end here," he declared, raising his chin up in the air. "Let's get on to more fun things."

The bound girl shivered, wondering what Lance's definition of fun is.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

The minute Dean heard what Bobby had done, he exploded right on his face. "WHAT!?" the young hunter shouted.

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy," Bobby answered fiercely. "I ain't stupid. I know Hy Vee's manager, got rid of a poltergeist at his house a few years back and he still owes me. He'll keep a look-out for yer brother."

That settled Dean down a little, but not completely. "There are _demons_ after the girl, Bobby. We can't take risks of letting her go unprotected."

"She ain't unprotected, Dean. Sam's with her."

"That's another thing! Sam's just fourteen. He can't protect himself _and_ a civilian at the same time," Dean seethed at this sudden short-sightedness of the older hunter. "I'm going after them. You stopping me?"

Bobby placed both palms out, knowing it was pointless to argue with the boy right now. No one was more protective of other people—most especially his family and friends—than Dean Winchester. There was nothing stopping him no matter what he did so Bobby didn't even bother. He went back inside to his research after he watched the Impala's tail lights disappear from his sight.

Dean gripped the steering wheel extra tight until he couldn't feel his hands anymore. He was probably just overreacting, but he really did have a very bad feeling about this. . He has enough years as a hunter under his belt to trust his instincts and this time, they were screeching at him. He pushed the Impala to its limits.

It was broad daylight, and he knew full well that the monsters preferred the cover of the night to do their evil deeds. But what's to stop them from attacking easy targets like his brother and Kenzy is? Dean's heart constricted agonizingly, his hunter training kicking in. There was just a million things that could possibly go wrong that he had to be prepared for and he didn't like them one bit.

The middle Winchester fished for his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and speed dialed Sam's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Where are you!?" he yelled into the phone.

"In an ice cream parlor near Hy Vee," Sam replied mechanically like he'd expected to be giving this particular answer before.

It amused Dean for a moment before the hammering in his chest reminded him of why he was doing this in the first place. "I'm coming to get you, you hear?" Dean commanded. He heard the barest of breath being released and he could almost see his little brother rolling his eyes. _Well, he can do all the eye rolls he wants as soon as I make sure they're fine._

"I hear you. We'll wait for you in the parking lot."

"Got it," Dean answered back. "Stay alert and keep an eye out for each other."

"Yeah."

The line went dead and Dean floored it, unable to ignore his sudden panic. It was pure luck that no law enforcement pulled him over

After a few eternities and a day, he reached the said grocery store. The parking lot has gotten pretty crowded and a quick survey of the grounds didn't yield much. He managed to squeeze into a vacant spot, his luck holding out so far.

He had only got out of his beloved car when he bumped into a guy who wore an apron smeared with a smudges of different colors. He smelled like sweets. "Oops, sorry man," he smiled apologetically.

Dean merely gave him a noncommittal grunt, his eyes already searching for Bobby's truck. _Maybe they're still in that ice cream shop_.

He found it much more easily and entered. A little bell rang and he was greeted by a cheery little female. At some other time, he would've favored her a smile and tried to get her number, but he had more important things in his mind right now. "Hi, I'm looking for my brother and my girlfriend," he said as a manner of greeting. He briefly marveled at how effortlessly the white lie had sounded. "The little guys about yea high, and my girl's about this tall," he resumed at her crestfallen face, gesturing each for Sammy's and Kenzy's heights.

"Haven't seen them," she reported bitterly. "I just started my shift."

The young hunter stopped mid-step, "Okay, thanks," he replied uneasily, backing out straightaway and tracing his steps back to the parking lot to look for the truck more closely. Of all the most irritating things, however, he bumped yet into another guy.

"Dean!" the guy exclaimed.

Inspecting the little dude in front of him, he was surprised to see that it was actually his baby brother, recognizing his familiar brown hair that was two inches too long. "Sam?"

Sammy retreated a few steps, ogling at him weirdly. Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Sam," he repeated. "What's wrong?"

He glanced down at Dean's feet and relaxed visibly." You're really Dean?"

"Dude, what kind of question is that? Of course it's me!"

At the look that crossed his brother's face, Dean promptly had an explanation for why his brother felt the need to check if it was really him so he moved to take out the small silver knife that he kept against his right ankle and to make a shallow cut to his forearm. But before he could completely process that line of thinking, he found himself asking instead, "Where's Kenzy?"

"The shapeshifter took her," Sam grimly stated, perilously near tears as he confirmed Dean's earlier presumption. "He looked exactly like you but he had the wrong clothes and I only noticed when it was too late. They were gone. I didn't think for a minute that anything like this could happen here of all places, and I'm sorry, Dean. I know you like her. This is all my fault, I should've been more careful," he ranted on, transparently flustered and disappointed with himself.

Dean took that opportunity to pull his brother into a tight hug although he hated these kinds of chick-flick moments. He hated it even more when the kid does that, blaming himself for something that's gone wrong when it was understandably not his fault. It was nobody's fault and his baby brother was beating himself up over it. The big brother in him was willing to go to any extent to ease his brother's mounting panic.

The now fourteen-year-old boy melted against his brother's embrace pliantly. He's been looking everywhere in the parking lot and the places they've been to but he just couldn't find Kenzy. Shifter-Dean must have taken her somewhere faraway to do all kinds of things to the only female figure in Sam's life as of the moment, and he was powerless to do anything about it. He was powerless to protect her. If only he'd paid more attention to his dad's lectures… If only he'd been more vigilant and pointed out the fact that something was off about the first Dean he saw… They wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean suddenly swore loudly, gently extricating himself away from his little brother's armhold. At Sammy's questioning glance, he explained his sudden revelation. "The shifter would need to lift DNA from me to be able to copy me right? Well, there was this guy who bumped into me earlier. He oddly smelled like he took a bath in something sweet."

Sammy's usually gentle but now-crazed brown eyes enlarged as he got an idea on who that could be. "Did he look Oriental to you? Brown hair, brown eyes and slightly yellowish skin?" he asked feverishly, trying to be certain of his facts and swift as well. Any wasted second could cost them Kenzy's life.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean answered, not liking the little piece of detail that his brother's idea seemed too farfetched.

"There was this guy at the ice cream parlor who was _kinda_ looking at us strangely," He explained in response to his older brother's skepticism. He knew it was a little bit of a stretch, but a wild lead is still better than nothing.

Dean appeared to have realized that too. "Let's check out that ice cream parlor then."

Unfortunately, their little trip yielded nothing substantial. The girl at the counter said she'd known the guy, Shawn Chua, for a grand total of two days, so she didn't have the slightest idea where he lived. "The manager would, though. But his office is locked and he wouldn't be back for another three days. Look, you can talk to the guy during his shift tomorrow," she offered meekly after seeing the look on Dean's face, his jaw clenched tight and his hands balled into fists, ready to punch something in his vexation.

And he almost did, much to the employee's chagrin, but luckily, his little brother stopped him. "Maybe we should call Uncle Bobby and tell him what happened. There's nothing more that we can do here," Sam suggested.

As much as the eldest Winchester wanted to dispute that, he knew it was true. He'd never felt this incompetent trying to save someone he cared about. And oddly, he did care about the girl. He could tell in the set of his brother's lips that he felt the same way. He can't afford to lose control now, so he agreed. "Let's just go home and fix our game plan."

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

"Gah," Kenzy gasped out, her breathing labored and extremely painful, as another cut was opened up by the big-ass blade her captor held. Dean—no, that's _Lance_, she reminded herself—had carved her up pretty good, and he grinned at himself in self-congratulations. The girl was yet to scream and beg for him to stop, but he knew they'd get there soon enough. He had all the time in the world to wait for that to happen eventually. She was already pretty shaken up each time she looked at him wearing Dean's face.

Kenzy's mind shut down for a minute. She had lost track of time completely, her grasp on consciousness tenuously thin. Lance wanted her to beg him to stop, but she was _not_ gonna give that sadistic bastard the satisfaction. She was just too damn proud for any form of asking for anything, begging or not. For a brief second, she wondered if the Winchester brothers were looking for him as Lance had insistently claimed. She knew enough not to get her hopes up, though, and didn't really try to consider it. Torment was savaging her body continuously as Lance wielded a blunt weapon and tried to bash her head in. She lost her flimsy grip on consciousness then, and she sank into merciful darkness.

Kenzy didn't know how long she's been deep under but the icy cold wetness that greeted her had waken her up unceremoniously and she blinked her eyes a dozen times, confusion hitting her full force. She started to wonder why on Earth she felt like she's been dumped under a ton of bricks when Lance's face met hers, a breath the only thing separating the two. She recoiled away from him instantly, which wasn't much, given that she was strapped on a chair. The room that felt burning hot due to the lack of ventilation now felt freezing cold as lance reveled at his victim's state.

"Good morning!" Dean—damn it, that's Lance, she told herself again—greeted. "I'm glad you're awake now," he said, smiling condescendingly at her. "I wouldn't want you to miss this."

Since the time he brought her here, Lance had used a large knife to cut her up. It felt like wounds covered every inch of her skin and the blood loss was making her lightheaded. Sometime after that, he had his exercise of beating her up with what must have been a baseball bat (Kenzy was too out of it to get a good enough look to confirm her suspicion), drawing up even more blood and making her eyesight bleary. And right now, he was holding a red-hot branding iron.

Lance waved the piece of iron over the open flame that he had started a few minutes ago, right after his prisoner passed out. He waited for her to wake up on her own, but, being as impatient as he was, he chose instead to resort to other means. Thus, he dumped a bucketful of water over her head.

The end he held warmed up slowly, and he knew it was time to resume his play. Walking next to her, he had the sense that she was about to break with the next thing he was about to do, and it excited him all the more. As he said earlier, he was done with foreplay.

He had to keep up appearances and show up for that birthday party he was invited to last night. Hunters were very keen with monsters being just that: monster with no other life than eating people up. But the Winchesters were even more thorough. So inevitably, he had to let Kenzy rest while he went out.

Turning her tied hands over, he pressed the heated end of the branding iron onto the skin of her right wrist. He closed his eyes then, pressing it even deeper, anticipating her glorious screams now. But none came. Opening them up in annoyance, he was infuriated to see that, even with the extreme pain reflected in her eyes, she only ground her teeth together and stiffened in her seat in response. Other than that, her mouth remained adamantly shut.

In his outrage, he momentarily forgot that he was trying to keep her alive and picked up the handgun on the tray. Kenzy shifted in her seat, afraid of what he might do in his fury. Lance pointed the gun to her chest and, unable to help herself, the mistreated girl sucked in a deep breath, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Lance caught himself in time, aiming instead for her thigh and pulling the trigger.

At first, Kenzy didn't feel anything worse than the baseball bat hitting home. She even thought for one second that Lance didn't really fire the gun. But then, there was the sudden and intense burning sensation on her thigh. Lance _had_ fired, and it was making her bleed pretty heavily. All thought of defying her captor left her as she moaned in agony. The other more deliberate injuries that caused her suffering a minute ago paled in comparison to the feeling on her thigh.

Lance hovered for awhile, meaning to intervene should she begin to lose too much blood and die on him. He wasn't quite done with her yet, and he has not experienced this much fun for years so he wanted to make it last for as long as he could.

He left the basement soon thereafter to head for the shower and get ready for work, confident that the girl wouldn't die from the gunshot wound he gave her. Grinning to himself malevolently, he snatched the small disc from the table on his way.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

Kenzy's eyes fluttered open for a little while, long enough to take note of the trickling warmth in her legs. Her torturer was out of sight. She meant to make her plan of escape the minute he was out, but her head dropped to her chest and she passed out.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

Kenzy was sure she was dead when she regained consciousness again. She remembered passing out cold. She remembered Lance shooting her. She remembered her little trip with Sam to the grocery. She remembered blushing at Dean. She remembered meeting John at the hospital. She remembered her dad—no, scratch that—the demon killing her brother.

That last memory sent Kenzy's heart in hyperdrive and she vaguely heard the dripping noise from somewhere in the room. She struggled against her bonds, the rough rope biting onto her wrist where, she noted, the skin looked horribly red and blistered. More blood was the only result of her struggling.

_Wait, where's my bracelet!?_ For seconds—or was it hours?—she merely stared at her wrist, her eyes unbelieving. That blue bracelet was her brother's 12th birthday gift to her. And now she lost it. For years it had provided her comfort and strength in times of hardships, much like a blanket or a teddy bear would to a child, but now that she needed it the most, it was gone.

She was tired and growing more tired with each movement, each thought. The darkness claimed her again and she succumbed against her will.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

The minute Dean's foot stepped into Bobby's study, he started to pace. Sam found that rather disturbing because Dean has never expressed this much stress and anxiousness unless he was worried over his family or a few close friends. Kenzy didn't fit into either, since they only met her yesterday.

Sam had to admit he weirdly felt the same. It wasn't everyday that they got to meet someone they could completely trust this easily. There was just something about her that…put them at ease.

Even Bobby was troubled. Dean kept on shooting him daggers every now and then, and he looked pissed off. But not at Dean. Or anyone else for that matter. He was pissed off that he didn't saw this one coming. Bobby personally held himself responsible when someone gets in danger because he didn't know something or foresaw a possible event. It was ridiculous expecting that from himself, but Sam could understand it a little. He had a vague idea that it stemmed from the fact that he himself had to kill his wife when she got possessed. That's what drove Bobby into the life of hunting.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. Dean looked startled, something that almost never happens unless you ambush the guy in his sleep or from behind. Sam got up from his perch and went to open the door while the older hunter went to do some more research if there's been anything like this within the area that he missed.

When Sam opened the door, there was no one there. Instead, there was a small package sitting on the the porch. Looking around for awhile in case whoever left it here was still around, he finally decided to take the thing inside for inspection.

"Who was it?" Bobby asked him. Dean merely gave him a cursory glance and went back to making a huge hole on the floor.

"Somebody left this out."

That seemed to have gotten his brother's attention. His head snapped up and he retrieved the package from Sam, setting it down on the only table in the room. He tore at the packaging, revealing a small box that contained a CD. Bobby grabbed it from him before he can say anything and slipped into the CPU of his computer.

A few clicks later, the Winchester brothers crowded behind Bobby. Opening a video file they all bated their breath, not knowing what to expect. The opening credits of the short video revealed a face that shock the three. It was Dean's.

"I know, right?" the face said, showing off Dean's signature smirk, but none of the light teasing in his brother's eyes reflected from this one. It was wicked and had a tinge of craziness. This guy wearing Dean's skin was off his rockers, that much was clear.

"Well, anyhow, I just want you to know that this is exactly what she see each time I hurt her," it announced. Dean swore.

The video was pitch black for a second until the image of Kenzy gagged and tightly tied to a chair cropped up. When he saw it, his heart started to pound on the walls of his chest loudly. He could hear it clearly in his ears, but then maybe it was also his brother's heart pummeling in his own chest.

"Comfortable, are we?" shifter-Dean remarked in Dean's voice, but the accent was all wrong. Dean hoped against his better judgment that Kenzy could at least recognize that it wasn't really him.

The monster worded Kenzy's name a few times and the girl visibly flinched away at that. He was aware of that and asked, baffled. "You prefer being called Kenzy, no?"

Kenzy didn't answer him and the shifter seemed to have decided that it didn't matter. He removed Kenzy's gag. "What on Earth are you doing?" she managed to croak out, but the guy ignored her. Instead, he revealed the things he had rolled into the room. The three men watching the video reacted viciously, but none as much as Dean. They all knew where this was going.

For the next few hours, Bobby continued to watch the remaining scenes, hoping to glean some inkling as to where this sick bastard could be keeping Kenzy all the while stomaching the horrible things the shifter to that poor girl who has enough on her plate as it is. Finally, he's had enough and closed the file. There was nothing in there that could help them find her. All he managed to guess was that he was keeping her in a dark basement and that, if they didn't rescue her anytime soon, they wouldn't need to, based on that gunshot wound the shifter had inflicted on her.

When he saw her tied and gagged, it was enough to make Dean want to kill anything. He tried hard to treat this like any other hunt but failed miserably. Even more so when he heard Kenzy say, "D-Dean? What's that for?" She truly believed that it was him doing all that to her. As if he could. He felt sick to his core just thinking about it!

He stayed far away from the computer then, but even as Bobby watched the rest of the thing, he kept an ear out. The last thing he heard was a gunshot, and he unconsciously went to pick up his duffel of weapons of the floor. He sat on the couch beside a window, taking out his favorite handgun and he began to clean it methodically.

Sam allowed his brother to work off some nerves cleaning his guns, but after the fifth time he did, he just had to intercede. "Why don't we just get some shut-eye so we could talk to suspect number one early in the morning?"

Dean, obviously dead on his feet seeing that it was already two in the morning, went along quietly. He was extremely tired even after doing almost nothing all afternoon and bed suddenly sounded the best thing in the world.

They went upstairs to the room they shared after a muttered good night to Bobby. They changed into sleeping clothes after washing up and brushing their teeth. As soon as Sam's head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

It wasn't that easy for Dean, though. He tossed and turned for a good one hour before exhaustion got to him and he fell into a fitful but fortunately dreamless sleep.

He woke up with a start only minutes later. The clock on the bedside table in between his bed and Sam's told him a different story, though. It was already past 7AM by the looks of it, and the ice cream parlor opened up at 8AM. He got up immediately and took a quick shower. At any given time, he would've taken his time with it, but there was no room for relaxation unless they got Kenzy back in one piece.

Done with his morning rituals and well-dressed, he went back down to get into the Impala so he could be there when the shop was opened up by Shawn. Unfortunately, Bobby was already expecting him to exactly that and intercepted him at the foot of the stairs. "Breakfast?" the olde hunter asked.

"No," Dean replied curtly, but the look of hurt on the man he considered as his father stopped him short. His expressions softened, "But coffee would be nice."

He followed him back to the kitchen, where Sam joined them moments later, still in his pajamas. Since none of them really had an appetite, Sam went back upstairs to get cleaned up and, exactly fifteen minutes later, they were back on the road.

Promptly at 8AM, the Shawn guy showed up. Sam and Dean got out of the Impala parked across the street just as Shawn was opening up.

"Hey!" Dean called out to him as they approached the guy and he turned around to face them.

_He didn't show any sign of recognition or panic,_ Dean mentally noted. _Doesn't mean he's not our guy._

"We're just looking for my girlfriend," Dean said as a manner of greeting. Sam snickered a little but Dean didn't mind him. "She was with my little brother yesterday buying ice cream here."

"I am so sorry, man. I get a lot of customers in my shift. I can't remember each and every one of them," he hastily replied, looking eager to get rid of them. That only served to strengthen the brothers' suspicion of him.

"Okay, we'll get out of your hair now," Dean nicely declared, but Sam saw in his brother's eyes that that wasn't the case.

"We're trailing him, aren't we?"

"Yeah, Sammy, we're trailing him."

**A/N: What do you think's gonna happen next? The latter part got pretty boring but there's more action on the next post! Please take a moment to review okay? They make my day :)**


	5. Knight in Shining Armor

**A/N: I'm infinitely glad that you guys stuck with me this far! Life's keeping me away from writing longer and longer and it's hard to keep my head in the game. But seeing the growing number of people reading my work keeps me going, so thanks :) You guys know the drill! Stay awesome!**

**Disclaimer: Okay. This part really pains me, but since it safeguards me legally, I'll do it. Supernatural is definitely not mine. If it was, I would be in heaven and that would make it nearly impossible to post my stories here unless I find Ash.**

**CHAPTER FOUR: Knight in Shining Armor**

It was a painstakingly slow seven-hour wait before the guy's shift ended and the girl from yesterday took his place. Thrice into the wait, Sam had to wrestle his older brother from going into the shop and just confronting Shawn.

Now suspect number one was on his way somewhere, driving a crap of a car that looked like it had been in an accident recently, so it was not hard tailing the guy. Dean kept a reasonable distance between the two of them.

Four miles or so later—Dean didn't really pay attention to the distance they traveled—their lead entered the residential district and pulled over a decent-looking with house with a decent-looking lawn. For a guy who works selling ice cream and drives a crappy car, he sure looked like he had the cash. _So why the job and the car?_ Sam thought, squinting his eyes in the afternoon glare to get good look on the little guy as he made his way to his front door. He fumbled with his keys and dropped them. Picking them up clumsily, he was inside his house shortly.

Lance was shocked that the Winchester boys had already made him so easily. Of course, he hadn't been too conspicuous in coming into contact with the middle Winchester to copy his appearances, but still it was surprising that they found out about him without difficulty. _All the better,_ he thought sagely. _I don't know how long I can keep that girl alive. I always lose control when I have my fun with her!_

The shapeshifter knew that Sam and Dean were following him closely, but he let them. He could've easily lost them by shifting inside the shop, but he chose to lead them right here anyway. John wasn't with them, but he was so raring to exact his revenge that he'll just have to make do with the hunter's sons.

Parking the beat-up car he hotwired a state over, he tried checking to see if the boys had managed to follow him here through his rearview mirror.

Sure enough, the Winchester boys had followed him here.

Smirking to himself, he entered the house and retrieved the gun he had bought years ago on impulse. He was meaning to use it on himself, but instead, he came up with the brilliant plan of the ultimate revenge, sometimes making it up as he went. He shifted as quickly as he could, placing the gun on a console table by the door. In his eagerness, he almost missed the trail of blood on his living room floor. At the end of the track was the body of the lovely girl he planned on using as leverage and gambling piece. She was as pale as death, her lips showing signs of lack of oxygen and chapped badly. _Must've crawled her way here, but how did she cut the ropes? Oh well, never mind that. I wonder how those boys will react to seeing her lifeless corpse? Hmm. Maybe they'll freeze up. Perfect opportunity, _he thought nonchalantly, poking at her to see if she would respond.

Kenzy was feeling drained all over. In all her dizziness, she couldn't remember how she had managed to crawl her way out of the basement that had served as her prison for what felt like forever. She had only meant to close her eyes for a little to replenish her strength, but when she felt something cold on her cheeks, she was shocked to see that it was once again her torturer. He jumped away from her, alarmed. She wanted to shrink away from him as much as she can, but her body refused to listen to her.

In time to the bursting open of the door, her eyelids fluttered feebly. She regained consciousness long enough to meet a pair of hazel eyes.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

Sam had suggested that they scope out the place when the sun sets so there will be less people to witness them, but Dean was insistent they do it now. There was panic and desperation in his brother's eyes and voice that the youngest Winchester has never seen before on the brother he looked up to and so he relented. _Dean must really like her badly_, he mused to himself. _I'll have to ask him later after we get Kenzy back. _Then he added gravely_, Alive_.

Strolling over and inside Shawn's fence casually, Dean's heart was wreaking havoc inside his chest. They were trying to look like they were supposed to be there when Dean caught a glimpse of something blue among the green grass. Holding it up to face level to inspect the flecks of red that covered a part of what looked like a bracelet, he heard Sam's intake of breath directly behind him.

Twisting around to face his brother, Dean saw disbelief color Sam's face, or rather rob it of its color. With a shaky breath, the fourteen-year-old whispered in a shaky voice, "She's here. Kenzy's here. That's hers. She was wearing it while we were shopping."

Wasting no more time, the older of the two whipped his handgun from his jeans. Not giving a damn about the neighbors, he ran the short way to the door and kicked it down. What he saw only made the anger that was threatening to overwhelm him catch more fire.

A new guy was crouched over a body. His heart skipped a beat. "Zy," he breathed, suddenly unable to articulate her nickname completely. For a while, Dean Winchester felt weak in his knees. She was so pale. She wasn't moving. _It's over, she's dead. I failed. I couldn't save her in time._

Frozen in despair, Dean's gaze was drawn to her face. Gray and hazel collided.

Air rushed into his lungs again with relief, only to be replaced with wrath in an instant. When he looked for the shifter again, raising his gun to take aim, he was onto the young hunter. His moment of vulnerability cost him precious time.

They fought over the gun while Sam dashed to Kenzy's side. He knew that he'll only get in the way should he try help his brother. Besides, the girl lying on the floor needed more attention from him.

Sam blanched at the injuries that Kenzy sported. There were a million cuts, slices and bruises on her, but what bothered him the most was the continuous flow of blood from a big gash on her left temple and right thigh. It was clear on the pieces of blood-spattered cloth that she had tried to staunch herself from bleeding to death and failed miserably.

From the corner of Sam's eyes, he saw his brother throwing a strong punch to the shifter's midsection who wasn't fast enough to block it. Dean was winning so he focused all his attention on Kenzy. He felt for a pulse and was relieved to find that, though it was faint and wildly erratic, at least there was something. Water sprung to his eyes as the real possibility of losing this girl so soon occurred to him. _No, not happening_, Sam shook his head, his too-long hair swaying with the motion.

Dean, on the other hand, was brawling with the monster, struggling to reach the gun before the other did. He could've easily gotten the knife he concealed on his ankle, but that means letting his guard down for a second and it wasn't a real option for him. So he struggled.

The young hunter bombarded the shifter with everything he had even as lactic acid burned in his muscles, slowing him down by a notch. He chanced a glance at the two figures on the floor. Reassured that Kenzy was still breathing, he knew she'd have to get to a hospital soon. He maneuvered away from the shifter's low kick, missing him by a foot. Due to his momentum, Lance wasn't able to balance himself immediately, and his opponent was quick to take advantage of that. Dean took the opening to reach for the silver knife hidden on his ankle. The shifter stumbled forward, towards him and he angled the knife just right where his heart should be. Lance's own weight became his downfall.

Spluttering incoherent words, Dean let him fall down, grasping at the knife that stuck from his chest. The light went out from his eyes quickly but he managed a few words before he breathed his last. "Curse you…Winchesters."

Staggering back, Dean almost let gravity do its work, thoroughly exhausted, but his brother brought him back to his feet and onto solid ground. "Dean!"

His breath hitched in his throat, his mind racing as to what he should do. "I-I'll bring the car round the back," he said, spying on a back door. "Just keep applying pressure on that. I'll carry her myself to the car."

Dean almost flew to the Impala, rousing her to life. "C'mon, baby," he muttered. He was right where he needed to be in the space of a heartbeat. Climbing out of the car and leaving the door open behind him, he kicked down the back door the same way he did with the other. Sparing the shifter's corpse on the floor a fleeting glance, he pulled his knife, sheathed it in between a cloth he used for just this purpose and tucked it in his jean's back pocket. He took his gun back too and holstered it in his jeans as well.

Kenzy weighed like a feather and it got Dean running back to the car in panic. That could only mean the loss of blood. He got her into the passenger seat and sat in front of the wheel. Slamming his door with a force that he would have chided a day before, he gunned the engine without even checking if his brother was with him and drove as fast as he could to Sioux Falls General.

On the way to hospital, Sam, who miraculously wasn't left behind, called Bobby to fill him in.

"Balls!" the old hunter exclaimed his signature word. "I'm on my way."

Dean singlehandedly broke every speed limit law in the state of South Dakota. His younger brother kept peeking at him through his peripheral vision, not knowing what to say to calm his brother down. How could he when he himself couldn't stop the ringing in his ears?

Inexplicably, they got to their destination without any accident whatsoever, and they didn't get pulled over by the officers of the law. Sam was sure that none of that would've stopped Dean from driving too fast just to get to the hospital.

The younger boy couldn't bring himself to look at the body that lay beside him to even check for a pulse to make sure that she was still breathing. For a glorious moment, he had thought that he had found the mother/sister figure in her, only for her to be taken away from him again. He was starting to think that maybe he was cursed to lose the people important to him.

They reached Sioux Falls General's Emergency Room then. Doctors and nurses helped them load Kenzy onto a gurney, but when they neared the flapping two-door, one of the nurses told them that they couldn't go inside and that they should just wait for the doctor to come out and talk to them in the Waiting Room. Both brothers knew that of course. They know how it worked, but neither of them was willing to back down. "That's my girlfriend in there!" Dean exclaimed. At any other time, Sam would have snickered at that lie.

Bobby appeared out of nowhere, his trucker's cap terribly askew. Putting an arm each on the Winchester boys' shoulders, he ushered them wordlessly away from the nurse and into the Waiting Room. Dean shrugged his gesture away, but Sam readily molded into the old man's embrace and cried. It felt for him like his grief over the mother he never knew and the new face he had just met was mixed into one glob of emotion that bore down heavily on his chest.

Dean Winchester was having an equally hard time, though he didn't show it. He just rested a warm forehead on the colder than cold cement wall, choosing to direct all his awareness into leveling his breathing. While Sam cried out onto Bobby's arms, Dean just cried on the inside. He didn't even know why, but he felt this sudden and intense anguish at the probability that the woman being operated on at this very moment could die any minute. At first when he felt the attraction, the _pull_, he had associated it to the fact that she was just so beautiful and he wanted her physically. But now, he wasn't sure if that was all he really felt. It strangely felt like the way he felt with Robin, and he very well knew how that ended.

It was the longest wait of the three men's life, but at least they had each other, unlike some of the cases when either one of the boys was in Kenzy's position. They had informed John about it an hour into the operation, and the man had been so irrationally angry in the wrong context that Bobby hung up on him. He wasn't sure if the boys could handle hearing what their dad thought of the girl.

The hunter hadn't seen anything like it in the years he'd known both the boys. He met John and his children shortly after Mary's death and he knew them both almost more than their own father did. That was one of his greatest pride and joy. But never had he imagined that this is how they would react to a virtual stranger.

His musings were interrupted, however, when a man in a pristine white lab coat approached their little group. "Family of Mackenzy Stanwick?"

"No, we're her friends. Her family's just passed away," Bobby answered for the three of them.

"I am Dr. Lincoln. I'm afraid I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"

"The bad," Dean croaked, his voice as hoarse as Sam's like he'd been crying just as hard. Bobby just shook his head at that, knowing that Dean was probably as much of a wreck as his brother was but wouldn't let anybody else see it. It was both a marvelous and stupid thing.

"Very well then, mister…?"

"Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer. Now get on with it," Dean replied irritably.

"Okay, Mr. Winchester. I'm going to be very blunt with you. The patient had received several serious head trauma and had caused a mild concussion. Normally, it would be a great thing. Unfortunately, one of the worst blows was directed to the part of her skull that protects the hippocampus. This is the memory chamber in layman's terms. We would have to do some more tests once she wakes up from her coma," the doctor intoned in a monotonous tone, pausing just a bit for the trio to keep up. There was a collective gasp on the last word. "But the possibility of amnesia is still there. I don't think that coma will last very long. Her body had been put through too much and this is its way of recuperating.

However, that is not what I'm most worried about. She had sustained several deep lacerations on her arms and legs, and her skin is peppered with similar smaller versions. Estimating, I believe that she was shot early this morning as well. Even if she managed to slow down the blood flow, she still lost a quantifiable amount of blood. We've replaced most of it through blood transfusion, thank goodness her blood type is not rare, but her brain had lacked enough oxygen for a long time," the doctor paused again, this time to catch his breath. "I'm afraid that even if Ms. Stanwick does pull through, she'll have permanent brain damage."

All of a sudden, Dean's world lost color. _Permanent brain damage? That sounds real bad._ Even through his distress and the growing urge to mutilate something, he looked at the doctor steadily. "And the good news?"

"The good news is that she's stable as of the moment. We lost her on the table twice but she's fighting real hard to keep breathing. If anything, her determination should help her heal faster. I'm afraid that there's nothing more we can do but wait and see. She's in the ICU now," Lincoln said. "Are there questions?" When they didn't answer him, the doctor decided to let them process this all before concerning them with forms and other things. He felt sympathy for the girl's friends even though he's trained himself not to. "Very well. I'll be in my office if you do have questions later on."

He was gratified a nod from the oldest of the three before he turned his back to walk away. Lincoln was stunned when he heard a crash and a cry of surprise from the medical staff and patients alike. Doing a 180 degree turn, his eyes bulged at the display of blood as the young man who had introduced himself as the older Winchester—Dean was it?—punched a window beside him. He didn't even flinch as the glass crushed and tore at his skin. If the older man, his unce, Lincoln presumed, hadn't stopped him, he would have head-butted the glass as well. _He must've really loved that girl, his girlfriend wasn't it? _Shaking his head, he instructed one of the chief nurses to take care of the young man.

~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~

Fourteen-year-old Sam Winchester couldn't bring himself to go into Kenzy's room to visit her. He wanted to see her, wanted to assure himself that they made it to the hospital in the nick of time, but he didn't want to see the telemetry and all sorts of machinery that kept her alive. It was akin to seeing Dean or Bobby or his dad in the same state.

Dean was the first one to summon enough courage to enter her room a day later. He just sat beside her bed, holding her hand. He felt a jolt course through him at the contact, a pleasant tingling flowing in his very veins from his head up to his last toe. Kenzy's hand tightened on his, and he desperately clung to that simple reaction. "Hey, Kenzy. It's Dean. C'mon, open your eyes for me," he coaxed gently, his eyes transfixed at the girl.

There was sudden unnatural warmth in her grasp that made Dean flinch at first, but their contact never broke. A thin veil of glow encased her body that shocked Dean speechless and immobile. He knew he had to press the call button, but he just couldn't move his damn arms!

The light subsided as quickly as it had come. Most of the little stitches on her arm and faces that should've been just scarring faded in color and her eyes fluttered open, peering through half-closed eyelids that must have been uneasy from the swift burst of light. She turned her head slowly to the side, ogling at their intertwined hands. Her eyes trailed upwards, and upwards and upwards, and ended straight on Dean's face. Kenzy smiled.

It was one of the most sensual moments of Dean's life. It was unbelievable how that one small smile managed to put him at ease after days of continuously living in tension and distress. He never knew it was even humanly possible for him to feel this way about ant girl ever again.

Kenzy's mind was foggy with confusion. She smelt the familiar sterilized scent of the hospital, and she knew she was safe. But she didn't feel that way. Disturbingly, she felt like every part of her was on fire, slowly burning her away to nothing but cinders. Her head, her chest, her hands, her abdomen, her hands and feet, especially her thigh. For what felt like forever, she held her breath and kept her eyes closed, afraid that the minute she did anything but concentrate on _not feeling_ anything, her control would shatter and she would scream.

_Why wouldn't anyone do something about the fire?_ She tried voicing her concerns as the fire got worse, but her vocal cords wouldn't cooperate with her. In her panic to get away, another sensation invaded her consciousness that caught her unaware. There was now a coolness sweeping her from her left hand and up her arm. She greedily grabbed at that respite from the fire, savoring the refreshing force that gave her enough focus to open her eyes without causing her to lose control.

The extreme brightness blinded her, but only for a moment. When her eyes had adjusted to the light, she moved her head in a diligently sluggish speed to look at what had brought her redemption. She would've jerked away from the hand if she had enough strength, but seeing that she didn't, she instead sought for the owner of the hand. What she saw made her smile, although the movement was painful in itself. An angel sat beside her bed, wide-eyed and innocent.

But wait. _I know that…angel._ Kenzy began to doubt her initial assumption. A single name came to mind at her insistence to remember. _He's not an angel, but Dean sure looks like one._

Dean couldn't believe his eyes. She was awake. She's fine! Or is she, really? She was looking at him kinda weirdly, but her being able to even simply _look_ at him was enough for him. He pressed the call button, satisfied that he could now process like a normal human being again, or as normal as he could ever be. "You're finally awake," he commented just to cover the startling silence that had befallen the room besides the steady beeping of the monitors.

The middle Winchester hadn't meant it to sound accusing, but apparently, that's how Kenzy took it. "'m s'rry," she whispered, her voice unbearably scratchy.

"No, no. It's fine. You just, you just had us worried, is all," Dean hastened to explain as guilt settled on Kenzy's face. That seemed to be a common denominator around here lately. He offered her a few sips of water to relieve her throat.

Dr. Lincoln saved the patient from having to answer that. "Hi, Mackenzy. How are you feeling?" he asked almost conversationally as soon as he stepped foot into the room.

"'m fine," she answered defensively as she saw Sam and Bobby entering the room behind the man in the lab coat, even though she wasn't really fine. Unless the definition of fine has changed since the last time was awake. "'ow long w's I out?"

"A day. Do you remember anything at all?"

"Still hazy," Kenzy muttered, dodging the question. Her eyebrows met in the middle in a false show of confusion. The fact is, she remembered _everything_ but she couldn't possibly explain a shapeshifter abduction, could she?

"Do you remember your name?" Dr. Lincoln persisted.

"Mackenzy Stanwick, eighteen years old as of January 18, 1998, and currently in Sioux Falls, South Dakota," she supplied. That she could easily answer.

"And the people in this room, do you remember them as well?"

"That's Bobby with his trucker's cap. Sam, the cute little kid with the puppy dog eyes," she said with a slight grin on her face. It still hurt.

"I'm not little," Sam grumbled, though he said that with a smile of his own. He couldn't help himself. He felt so pleased.

"And this here is Dean," she continued, gesturing her hand a little to her left. _My angel_, she wanted to add but decided against it, so she just offered him a smile as her head gave a particularly painful throb.

Kenzy tried to hide it through a cough but the doctor called her bluff. "Your head bothering you?"

"A little," she grimaced, unwilling to admit that she still felt vulnerable. She didn't want to expose anymore weakness than she undoubtedly already had. "But I can manage it, no need for heavy sedatives."

Dr. Lincoln narrowed his eyes but decided to trust the girl, at least for now. "Okay, but we still need to perform a few more tests once you're ready for it. I'll leave you with your friends now."

"CT scan, MRI, the works. I know the SOP, doc," she reassured him. "I'll just press my call button."

The doctor nodded and made his leave. He was sure that young man, Dean, was anxious to be with his girlfriend. Tension was rolling off him like giant rogue waves.

The doctor was far from right.

Kenzy thought she saw a hurt expression on Dean's face, but it was gone in a split second she wondered if she really saw it or maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her. Shrugging it off for now, she turned her attention to everyone. "Sorry for everything. I'll pay for the expenses as soon as I get money from home," she announced rapidly.

"No need for that, Kenzy. I got ya covered," Bobby soothed her agitation. "What you need to do now is get better."

"Uh, gotta grab a cup of caffeine," Dean suddenly stood up from the chair. He got that wild look on his face that easily translated to unease at being inside the room.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at that, baffled at the boy's actions. It was only this morning when he had seemed ready to jump off the building with guilt and now, he looked like he wanted anything but be in this room. He had grown two day's worth of stubble and there were dark shades under his eyes. He never left the hospital even once to change his clothes or sleep and it was showing.

"Dean," Kenzy called after him when he was just a step away from the door. He looked back at her tentatively while Sam and Bobby watched the exchange. "Go home," she murmured shyly, her order lacking conviction.

Dean's heart stuttered as red spots colored her cheeks. She wasn't as pale as death anymore, so he should be happy right? But why on Earth had her words—or the lack of it—cut him deep? So she didn't describe him, big deal. Why did that friggin' _hurt_?

"Once I'm sure you're one hundred percent," he gave her a tight smile and exited the room.

For the rest of the day, Sam kept Kenzy entertained while Bobby retrieved a few supplies from his house. Kenzy wasn't allowed solid food yet and was stuck on IV drips, but she didn't mind. She'd kill for some pie or anything sweet right about now, but somehow, Sam's company kept her occupied enough not to even think about hunger. He was a joy to be around. Even Bobby had his moments. Now, if only she could say the same about Dean, who generally avoided interaction unless completely necessary, it would be worth it to have been tortured. It was the first day all over again, and this time, Kenzy didn't know how to break the ice.

Later that night as Kenzy slept, Dean urged Sam and Bobby to go home and rest. Sam wanted to put up an argument, but after a gentle nudge from Bobby, he just let it go. He yawned sleepily as he got into the truck with the old hunter.

Kenzy awoke suddenly from a very deep sleep. Her eyes immediately scanned the room for possible threats and was surprised to see that it was only a nurse coming in to change her IV drip. She sank back onto the bed and relaxed, though not totally. _I wonder if I'll ever be able to let my guard down after this_, she thought just as Lance's face flashed in her mind. The telemetry spiked all of a sudden.

"Miss, just relax," the motherly nurse hushed. "You're safe here."

The girl instantly recognized her as Nurse Marge who had cared for her since the time she woke up today and did the best she could to loosen up her taut muscles. _Only a hot shower can do that_, she considered dejectedly.

Marjorie Atkins had heard about Mackenzy Stanwick's case before she even met the girl. She remember tut-tutting at the girl's ill-fate at being taken by a madman and brutally tortured. And then she heard her miraculous recovery, and she couldn't help at briefly taking the time thank the Lord for that even through her busy schedule.

Kenzy looked downcast as she tried settling down again. Marge, being a mother herself, knew just the thing to distract her. "He never leaves, does he?"

"Huh?" Kenzy asked, bemused.

"Your boyfriend, he clearly loves you very much," she replied, pointing a fat finger at a figure sitting on one of the metal chairs, his back hunched in what looked like a very awkward position. Kenzy knew that leather jacket.

Her face heated up at the sight, but it was the pleasing kind of warmth.

Two days later, Kenzy was discharged from the hospital. The doctors were very surprised at her fast recovery and continually said that it was a miracle, given that she should either have amnesia or permanent brain damage right now but instead, she walked away only peppered with scars like a seasoned hunter.

What bothered Kenzy the most, though, was that Dean still wouldn't look at her in the eye, especially when he talked to her. She was at lost as to what to do. _Should I confront him about it? But what if I'm just imagining things?_

The ride back to Bobby's place was even more strained and humdum even as Sam made small talk. He was just answered with one-worded replies; none of the passengers were in the mood for pretending everything was fine.

Thankfully, John wouldn't be home for at least another week as he had caught sight of another case in Nebraska. Somehow, Kenzy sensed that his presence will only make things worse. Bobby said something about a parts run and Dean retreated with a muttered 'something to do', which left only Sam and Kenzy inside the house. The girl cracked a smile at the younger boy.

"Wanna go up to your room?"

"Nah, I think I'll stay here on the couch."

"Okay. Want me to stay with you?"

"Sure, if you don't have anything better to do than stare at empty space for the better part of the afternoon."

Sam looked conflicted. "Go on, finish your homework. I'll still be here when you're done." Just the mention of 'homework' had Sam convinced and he went up the stairs after a quick hug for Kenzy. It totally melted her heart.

Hobbling over to the couch with a barely functional right leg, Kenzy sighed in exhaustion as her bottom met the foam. Her doctor had wanted her to take the heavier kinds of pain medications, but she insisted on Tylenol. She didn't want anything that knocked her out completely, just in case.

She wasn't intending it, but sooner than she expected, the drowsy feeling overcame her.

It's getting pretty dark and Bobby's not yet home so Dean started finishing up his tune up work on the Impala.

_I like her._

Dean shook it off his mind, but the thought was persistent, and it kept on nagging at him from hospital room to Bobby's garage. He wanted to banter with her again, wanted to smile at her and look into her wonderful eyes, wanted nothing but to be able to be himself around her again.

But he couldn't.

In his life as a hunter, there was no room for romance. A short fling was excusable since they left town as soon as the hunt was over, but with Kenzy, it made him want to think of dinner dates and movie nights, and those were things he could never give her. And besides, his lifestyle will only put her in danger.

_But she's going to be a hunter too, she said so herself_, a voice in his heart whispered, the part that wasn't corrupted by unwavering obedience and being a good soldier, the part that still wanted the chance at some normalcy.

_That's just it! I don't want her in the line of fire! This gig we're doing is dangerous, and it was no place for any kind of settling down and definitely not an apple pie life, _his mind contradicted.

As if to reiterate his point, his phone buzzed once, died, and buzzed again. It was his dad.

Without hesitation, Dean answered the call. "Dad?"

"Dean," John intoned, breathing heavily as his voice reflected the pain and agony he was in. "I need you to do something."

**A/N: Cliffhanger! What does John want? Again, the medical stuff here are not exactly accurate. But I hope that didn't ruin the chapter for you. More action soon, I promise! Thanks for reading!**

**A/N 2: 'His Protector' will be updated for the promised continuation, after I manage to rewrite the whole thing for I have accidentally deleted the file. Really sorry for that :)**


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